Some Kind of Adventure
by stalrua
Summary: Fed up with the future her royal status holds for her, a twelve year old Emma runs away and ends up in the port town of Tortuga. She grows up there, working as a barmaid with her friend Ruby, but a chance encounter with a charming pirate sets into motion events and adventures she never could've imagined and reminds her that she can't run from who she is forever.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would already be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I also don't own one of Hook's little pickup lines – I actually swiped it from Captain Kirk in the Star Trek movie. It just seemed so Hook-like that I couldn't help it. Let me know if you can spot it!

* * *

**Chapter One**

**A Proper Lady and A Charming Pirate**

"_She couldn't help but think there was a little more to life somewhere else. After all, it was a great big world with lots of places to run to."_

* * *

"Sit up straight, head high, hands resting on your lap. No, don't grip your hands together; you're not in an arm wrestling match. Just lightly place one hand over the other – yes, like that. A princess should always look at ease."

To make a point, Emma slumped back into the chair.

"Emma Swan, what on earth are you doing?" Her mother's tone was shocked and exasperated.

"This is me at ease, Mom!"

"Well, you slouching like that is not lady-like in the least. Looking at ease and being at ease are two very different things. I can only imagine what the guests would say if they saw you like that; now, sit up!"

"I don't care what they'd say…"

"Well, I do!" Her mother took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "We are held to a higher standard, Emma. We have to look and behave like the royals we are."

"I though you said we're no different than everyone else in the kingdom." She hated that she sounded like a petulant child but she was purposely trying to get a rise out of her mother. They were both frustrated; they'd been at this all day. It was only a fortnight until her twelfth birthday and, to celebrate, her parents had planned an extravagant ball and invited, what seemed like, everyone in the kingdom. This would be the first time many of the other royals would meet her which, in turn, meant daily princess lessons for Emma so she could be presented as a proper young lady, the daughter of King Charming and Queen Snow.

She hated it.

"That is true; we are no different than anyone else, no _better_ than anyone else. But that doesn't change the fact that we are their leaders. They look to us to govern them, rule them, and guide them. We set an example, Emma."

She'd entertained the thought of running away on more than one occasion. The only problem was that, as much as she hated the idea of her future as a royal – being married off to some prince, having to deal with the issues of the kingdom on a daily basis, never getting to go on any of the adventures she dreamed of – she hated the idea of leaving her parents. Even though they frustrated her, she loved them and hated the thought of disappointing them.

Emma quietly sighed and sat up, crossing her hands delicately on her lap and schooling what she hoped was a pleasant look on her face. She must have been successful as her mother's face broke out into a smile.

"There now, you look like a perfect young lady!"

But Emma didn't want to be a perfect young lady – she wanted to be free.

* * *

The noise in the room was cacophonous. The little bar of the inn was small enough as it was; with all of the men crowding the area, shouting and yelling, it made the place seem increasingly claustrophobic. Emma rushed to fill five tankards with ale for the group of men situated at the bar. They were young, probably the lowest of the low out of the men on their ship, but they were confident; each of them was shamelessly trying to flirt with her.

"Honey, you can't leave me hanging like that. Come on, tell me your name. I told you mine…" As if that made any difference.

"It's a madhouse this evening!" A tall, leggy brunette wearing figure-hugging and stare-inducing trousers and a breezy blouse strutted past her carrying a tray full of empty mugs. "Been a while since we've had a crowd this big."

The brunette's name was Ruby and she was Emma's most trusted girlfriend.

A twelve year old Emma first showed up in Tortuga, fresh off the face of a merchant trading ship, in the middle of torrential downpour with no plans and no idea where to go. Desperate and alone, she had wandered through the town looking for a place to stay; the citizens of the pirate-filled town were less than trusting and unwilling to house her, despite the fact that she was just a child. That's when she stumbled upon The Salty Dog Inn. Ruby and August, her older brother, were the first people she talked to and, luckily enough for her, happened to be the inn owner's children. With their help, which involved much pleading on the part of Ruby, she had secured not only extended lodging at the inn, but also a job working in the little pub downstairs.

"I know! I'm exhausted and it's not even late, yet. These guys are just getting started."

"And there's still more trying to come in, just in case you didn't notice."

Emma swung her eyes to the main door. It conveniently opened at that moment, giving her a glimpse out where she could just make out groups of sailors and pirates huddled amidst the swirling snow. Great… yeah, it was most definitely going to be a long night.

"Hey babe… babe!" Her young would-be lover was calling to her again. "When do you get a break? You can come outside with me; get some fresh air." Fresh air? This kid was an idiot. It was the middle of winter, not to mention it was snowing outside. Fresh air, her ass.

Emma was now twenty-six. She'd grown up here and now considered the inn, its regular patrons, and the exciting Tortuga more of a home than the shining castle she was born and lived in for twelve years. Of course, that didn't mean she never missed her old life; it would've been easy to remain a princess. Everything handed to you on a silver platter, never wishing for anything, never having to struggle for something you want. Yes, it would have been very easy; but those easy outs were never a part of her dreams for adventure and that's why she'd left. Well, maybe not the only reason, but most definitely a major part.

"Wow, Emma, he seems like such a winner; you should definitely take him up on his offer for some fresh air." She gave Ruby a look, clearly telling her not to encourage the boys, but they'd already heard her. Their little ringleader obviously missed the sarcasm laced through Ruby's statement.

"Yeah, honey, you should listen to your friend. I can show you a good time, if that's what you want."

Oh, for the love of… with the little encouragement he'd received, compliments of Ruby, there was going to be no way he'd leave her alone now. Instead, Emma did the only thing she could do – glare at her friend who was making an already annoying situation insufferable. But in the true fashion of a friend, Ruby just smiled sweetly back at her before loading up her tray with fresh drinks to take out and exiting the bar, leaving her to deal with the boys.

"Go get 'em, tiger." She whispered on her way out. Emma returned to her work filling drinks and taking orders.

"Come on, blondie – I've made many a girl scream; I could do the same for you."

That was wishful thinking on his part. She'd be surprised if he'd even bedded anyone before, much less become experienced enough to make her scream. Either way, she was tired of his nonsense; she had other things to be doing, other patrons to be serving.

"Listen up, _boy_." She put as much emphasis on his young age as possible. Nothing took the wind of a pirate's sails, no pun intended, more than a reference as to how young and inexperienced he was. "You're young and stupid and obviously plastered. Here's a drink on me; now go bother someone else." She shoved the mug at him and turned to another man ready to order.

"What can I get you?"

"Sweetheart, I'm still talking to you." She ground her teeth in frustration.

"And I am _done_ talking to you."

"I think you'll be done when I say you're done!" His eyes were dark as he reached over the counter in an attempt to grab her; his mistake. She slid out of his reach, grabbed a pitcher of water, and promptly threw it in his face. He spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes. It was a shame he was preoccupied; he didn't even see the wooden club coming for him. Emma held the club above his head and let gravity pull it downward. There was really no point in putting any effort into it; gravity was more than enough for the solid piece of wood. It hit his head with a solid _thunk_ and the regular patrons laughed uproariously; they knew that sound, some of them from experience.

"Son of a bitch!" His curse was loud and angry. Emma leaned forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. His eyes were watering as he held one hand over the sore spot on his head.

"I'm not going to tell you again, kid – leave me alone."

Then she shoved him away and turned away from the bar, reaching for her drink and downing it in one long swig.

"Excellent, Emma! It's been forever since we've been able to use the club." At least Ruby was entertained by the spectacle. "But honestly, you didn't have to make him cry."

"Oh, tell me he didn't!" She laughed intensely when Ruby nodded.

"He pushed right through everyone and left, tears in his eyes the whole way!"

"Poor thing. And he was just a young one, too."

"You probably broke his heart. Now he'll never trust another woman again."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I'm sure if he ever needs reminding of how wonderful a woman can be, he can always turn to you." They both laughed again, Ruby picking up her tray.

"You know me – I would never turn away a poor, young soul looking for a romp in the bed. It's a shame, really; I probably could've taught him a few tricks."

"Ruby, the only you'd do is make his youthful ears burn with your dirty bedroom talk!" Emma had to yell to be heard over the patrons. Ruby threw a foxy grin over her shoulder and Emma couldn't help but laugh. Throwing the towel onto the bar, she turned to the next man waiting for a drink. "What can I get you?"

His eyes were so very blue.

That was her first thought.

Then she mentally slapped herself for sounding like such an idiot, even if it was just within the confines of her mind. Widening her view past his eyes, she took in the rest of him – dark and tousled hair, startlingly blue eyes, stubble running along a strong jaw, leather-clad attire, sword dangling from his hip.

Pirate.

"Hello, beautiful."

He flashed a confident smirk her direction and, although she hated to admit it, her breath hitched. He was gorgeous. Was it even appropriate to call a man gorgeous? Attractive? Striking? Good-looking? Handsome? _Ruggedly_ handsome?

"Can I get some rum, milady?"

"Sure thing." Emma whirled around, spurred into action by the familiarity of an order to fulfill. The mug filled, she turned and slid it to his waiting hands – or hand, rather. Instead of a flesh and blood hand, his left arm ended in a wickedly sharp hook. Well that was interesting…

"You're working too hard. You should come sit with me; take it easy for a bit."

Tempting, but no.

"Sorry, I'm swamped. Girl's gotta make a livin', you know." While that was true, she also knew that no one would ever begrudge her for taking a break. But he didn't know that – or at least she didn't think he did. Judging by the smug look on his face, he might.

"What's ten minutes? These scallywags can take care of themselves for a bit."

"I'm too busy. Really." Emma set to work on another sailor's order.

"You hesitated."

She glanced at him briefly through her lashes as she poured some ale but refused to answer because, damn it, she _had_ hesitated; he just wasn't supposed to have picked up on it.

"No need to be shy about it, love." He was leaning over the bar towards her, smirking again. She slid the drink to a tattooed and pierced sailor before turning to the pirate in front of her, arms crossed.

"What'll it take for you to leave me alone?"

"Just ten minutes over there." He gestured over his shoulder to an empty spot at a table in the back; the other men sitting at the table must have been saving the spot for him. "Just you and me."

"Doesn't look like it'll be just you and me. Looks like it'll be you and me and about fifteen of your crew."

"They won't bother us, love; won't even eavesdrop. I've taught 'em better than that." He winked at her and she smiled, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it.

"Is this guy bothering you?" Emma should have known August would notice the attention she was receiving and step in; ever since she'd showed up on the doorstep of the inn looking like a drowned rat, he'd taken it upon himself to protect her, stepping into a self-appointed big brother role. She could sense him as he came to stand behind her, obviously trying to intimidate the pirate. August was roughly five years older than Emma and Ruby but his appearance would fool most people; he looked much older than he was. Unlike her, he had been born and raised in Tortuga which meant he didn't look very different than the hordes of pirates that came through town – large build, bulging muscles, scruffy beard, tattoos covering most of his visible skin. Between the ruckus caused with the kid and now this one chatting her up, he'd evidently felt the need to step in.

"Unbelievably so, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"You can handle me – that's an invitation."

Emma was no innocent maiden; growing up in a town like Tortuga meant that there were always drunken fights to break up, hands reaching for her backside to dodge, and cheesy pickup lines from guys trying to get into her pants. For the most part, she tried not to indulge the patrons in their attempts at flattery and flirting but she couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth so she took a drink in an attempt to hide it.

"Wow… does that kind of stuff really work on women?"

"You tell me, love."

He was good, she'd give him that.

He lifting his tankard of ale and took a drink, never looking away from her. All of a sudden the room seemed a little too warm, despite the frosty air coming through the doors. He lowered his drink, the smirk returning to his face.

"Emma, there's a lot of people here – let's get back to work." August was obviously tired of this pirate's pickup lines and probably worried by her lack of just brushing him off, but she couldn't bring herself to break the eye contact so she was thankful when his eyes slid up to a point above her head. The spell broken, Emma also turned to glance up to August's face; if looks could kill, this pirate would be dead. She needed to act quickly. Drunken fights between patrons was one thing; drunken fights between patrons and the inn owner's son was another.

"I'm going." Emma touched August's arm lightly, drawing his attention back to her. "Let it go, it's no big deal." And with that, she made her way down to the opposite end of the bar; she could feel the heat of the pirate's gaze on her back but when she glanced back he wasn't there anymore.

The night dragged on and Emma managed to stay plenty busy; there must have been a good number of ships come into port today as the inn was packed to the brim. The attractions of Tortuga always meant there were people visiting the town so they never really had a slow night, but the mass of people and activity this evening was beginning to give her a slight headache. Fortunately for Emma, she was behind the bar tonight which meant Ruby got the floor. She spotted her dark-haired and red-lipped friend swat away a hand attempting to grope her with practiced ease, not missing a beat as she served tankards of ale to the group before her.

"What'll you be havin'?" A new group of men had made their way to the bar.

"Eight tankards of rum." He paused to peruse her. "And maybe a little of you, sweetheart. How 'bout you keep me company later? It's gettin' chilly out and my bed gets a little cold at times."

"Not gonna happen, buddy." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and set about filling the mugs.

"Good lord, Emma. I'm not going to have any ass left to grab by the end of tonight if they all keep this up!" Emma spared a glance for her friend as she rushed behind the bar, dumping empty glasses into the wash bin and filling new ones to take back out. "They're positively lecherous this evening and they're beginning to go for more than just my ass. You're lucky to be back here, that's for sure."

"True that. I'm getting enough of it with a block of wood separating us; I can't imagine how bad it is in the middle of them." Emma could imagine it, she'd been there plenty of times, but she knew Ruby wanted the pity so she indulged her and took pity on her situation.

"It's getting late, though; they'll start turning in soon." Ruby paused, leaning against the bar for a breather. Emma grunted her agreement and handed the rum-filled mugs to the group of guys, ignoring his last attempt to get her into his bed. "Oh, I've been meaning to tell you – you have an admirer."

Emma pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes as if to push away the aching in her head. "Really, in an inn filled with drunken pirates? Who would've thought?" She heard Ruby's soft laugh and smiled in response. The pressure of her hands against her eyes was beginning to cause colorful spots of light to appear in the darkness; she dropped her arms and blinked until her vision returned to normal.

"He's been staring at you for most of the evening."

"Most likely trying to stare down my blouse." Emma turned back to the bar. "What can I get you?"

"Really, though. He's not nearly as revolting as most of the guys here."

"Don't care. Here's your drink. What about you – what'll you be havin'?"

"He's actually very charming…"

"Then why don't you go after him?" Her attempts at blowing Ruby off were obviously not working so Emma made an attempt to appeal to her friend's sexuality. It was common knowledge that Ruby was a little more promiscuous than Emma – well, maybe more than a little. If she was interested in sleeping with someone, all she had to do was turn on the charm; the guys never knew what hit them. Emma had never been able to flaunt her sexuality the same way, despite Ruby's insistence that she had all the goods. She'd just never been as comfortable vamping it up just for some casual sex.

"I would have but he seems very insistent on you. I was serving their drinks and – I'll admit – I tried to flirt with him but all he asked about was you. Kept wanting to know your name; I didn't tell him, though." Emma sighed in relief; names were too personal a thing to just hand out to every guy that came through the inn. She was glad Ruby understood that. "See, look! He's still staring at you."

"I'm not looking."

"He's right over there." She ignored the hand pointing into the distance in front of her face, studiously washing the pile of mugs in the wash bin instead. "Emma…" Ruby was pouting, hands on her hips. "Emma, seriously. Emma, stop ignoring me and just look at him!"

"I don't need to see him; I'm not interested."

"You might be if you saw his pretty face."

"For god's sake, Rubes, don't you have drinks to get out or something." Emma threw the mug she'd been cleaning back into the suds and glared at her friend in mock frustration but Ruby just stared back with a Cheshire-like grin, resolute. It was a silent battle of wills that Emma knew she'd lose; she'd never been able to outlast Ruby. "Ugh, fine! Let's just get this over with so I can actually get some work done. Where is he?"

Emma didn't think it was possible but Ruby's grin grew even wider before she grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and facing her towards the far corner of the bar. Emma had to search for a minute before her eyes met his; it was the same pirate that had done a better job than most at trying to woo her earlier. A roguishly charming smirk broke out on his face when he realized he had her attention. She tried to fight the grin she couldn't help and shook her head ever so slightly in exasperation; he was determined. A few hours of drinking with his men had not yet caused him to forget about her. Most men harassed her at the bar before giving up and moving on to easier women; apparently, he was different. He raised his hand and crooked his finger towards her; the message was clear – _come here_. She cocked an eyebrow at him. He winked at her in response.

"He's a pirate." The excuse was pathetic; as if being a pirate was the worst thing in the world.

"Oh, come on... like that's stopped you before. How long has it been since you've been laid?" She could hear the smirk in her friend's voice; Ruby very well knew how long it had been since the last time she'd slept with someone – too damn long. He moved his head slightly, motioning for her to come over.

"Oh, you should go talk to him!" Ruby obviously hadn't missed his gesture. "I'll take care of the bar for a while – you go talk to him. And then later you can visit his ship; rock it a bit, you know. Make sure it's steady."

"Ruby!" Emma felt her cheeks redden at the insinuation and turned to slap her playfully on the arm.

"Just go! I'm going to be too busy cleaning up tonight to have any fun myself so I have to live vicariously through you. Don't disappoint me!" And with a shove, Ruby pushed her from behind the bar. Emma stood there for a moment before wiping her hands on her trousers and making her way to the pirate in the corner. He grinned at her as she approached.

"Hello, beautiful. I saved you a spot." He shifted over, leaving an empty space between his body and the wall; when she didn't move, he patted it with his right hand, making fun of her hesitance. She threw a look over her shoulder to the bar where Ruby stood, still grinning at her, before turning back to the pirate and sitting in the empty space. Immediately, he slid a tankard of what she assumed to be rum in front of her.

"You've been running around all evening. You must be thirsty."

"And from what I've heard, you've apparently been staring at me all evening. Nothing better to do?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking a slow drink of the warm ale.

"Oh, there are plenty things to do; I just prefer to stare at a beautiful lady than these ugly scoundrels." He motioned to his crew members. "So tell me, love – do you have a name?"

She paused for a bit.

"Perhaps."

There was a coy little smile on her lips; she was flirting with him – damn it, she was _willingly_ and _consciously_ flirting with him. His smug little smirk, the way he spoke to her, his distinct accent. This pirate oozed charm and sex appeal and she couldn't help but be drawn in by it. Or maybe Ruby was right; maybe it had just been too long since she'd slept with someone and so now she – and by she, she meant her body – was jumping at the chance for release. No… no, it wasn't just that. It was also him.

"Ah, a mysterious lass. No bother, I like a challenge." She couldn't maintain the eye contact, her gaze dropping to her drink.

"So, pirate, where do you hail from?

"I was born in a town just north of here, but I joined a crew as soon as I could walk and have been sailing ever since. I've navigated through all of the waters around here; spent more of my life at sea than on land. Although, for the past few years I've been traversing... well, I've been sailing a most treacherous sea. You wouldn't know of it, though; not many do." He added the last bit hastily at the question he probably knew was forming in her mind.

"What an adventure - a pirate drifting from place to place; coming in to ports only for supplies and a drink."

"And for the ladies, love."

"Oh yes, of course." She laughed. "Can't forget the ladies. They must be helpless to your charms, I'm sure."

"They can't resist." They were angled more towards each other now, although Emma couldn't remember ever moving. Their knees were close, almost touching, and his hand rested on the bench mere inches from her leg. She was leaning towards him, now. She shouldn't want him but she was fighting a losing battle with her hormone-driven body.

"So this fierce pirate that's sailed many fearsome waters and battled many foes and plundered many ports and probably ravaged many women," she couldn't help but snicker at that point, "does he have a name?"

He was grinning at her, dangerously attractive; he opened his mouth to answer - or quip some kind of retort - when he paused. Instead, his eyes lost their focus, his head tilted towards the front door. The table they were seated at was relatively close to the front door so they heard the commotion before many of the other patrons. Yelling, pounding, the clash of metal on metal – something was wrong. But before she could say anything, the front door burst open and the entire bar exploded into action. Startled, she stood up and began looking around the bar for Ruby.

"Get behind the bar." She didn't register the words at first, still concerned with trying to find her friend. "Now's not the time for daydreaming, love – get going!" The pirate was in her face now, almost yelling at her. Emma met his eyes briefly before nodding and climbing over the tables. She hugged the wall, trying to stay away from the action; men throughout the bar were fighting, despite the fact that they weren't part of the initial brawl from outside. But that's what happened when someone throws a punch in a bar, she knew that from experience. After scaling the bar and landing safely inside, Emma spotted Ruby crouched below the counter.

"I think we need a bigger club, Ems." It was supposed to be a joke but the frightened look in her eyes was contradictory. Out of nowhere, a sword sunk into the bar near Emma's hand and she jumped back, staring into the sea of madness in front of her.

A man grappled with the sword held in his opponent's hand. He managed to land a solid punch before he was fended off; the sword fell with a spray of blood. A large pirate grabbed the shoulder of his challenger, jabbing his cutlass into his gut and ripping it out again just as quickly. The mortally injured man fell to his knees clutching at his stomach. One of the young boys from earlier stumbled towards her, falling against the counter; his hand clutched a wicked gash across his throat as blood streamed from between his fingers. He emitted a distressed and wet-sounding gurgle that made her stomach twist.

"This isn't just a random drunken fight… there's something else going on here. Rubes, these guys are killing each other."

"What?!" Ruby practically screamed. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of their league.

"Where's my bow?"

"Um… oh god, where was it… it was… in the corner of the kitchen – near the trash bin!"

"Come on." Emma gripped the brunette's hand and dragged her through the kitchen door, spotting the bow and arrows in the corner. Her father had attempted to teach her archery and swordplay at a young age, but archery was the only thing that it seemed she had a natural aptitude for. As it was her only real mode of self-defense, she always kept her bow and arrows close at hand.

"We can go out the back; try to make it to my dad's house?" It was a valid suggestion. They snuck out the back door of the kitchen into the alley behind the inn, crouching in the snowdrift. The winter wind stung Emma's exposed skin. She could see men running through the street at the end of the alley; it was the last place she wanted to go, but they had no choice – it was their only exit. Emma pulled an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow.

"As soon as I say it, you run. Don't look back; just keep going until you're home."

"What about you?" Ruby's eyes were wide and her hands were clenched tightly around Emma's forearms.

"I'll be right behind you, but I have to make sure no one gets us." She spared a quick glance around the corner. "Ready? Ok – go!"

They burst out of the alley, sprinting down the street past the bar. A man turned towards them, their motion catching his eye, and Emma saw him yell for some of his cohorts; within seconds, a group of men were rushing towards them. Emma planted her feet and pulled back her bow; she took a steadying breath before letting her first arrow fly into the leading man's chest. He stumbled back and fell to the ground but she didn't have time to pause – the rest of the men were still coming at her. She grabbed another arrow and let it fly, then another, and another until the group of men were all splayed out on the ground.

Emma's hands shook uncontrollably with the adrenaline pulsing through her body; she had to get out of here. Suddenly, a man grabbed her arm hard, pulling her roughly towards him and causing her to drop the bow. The man's eyes glinted madly. Emma pushed and hit and scratched at her attacker, gaining a few feet of distance between them, but the man had already raised his sword above his head. There was no way she could move fast enough – the strike would hit her, most likely kill her.

But the blow never fell. She stared at the frozen man, eyes wide. His hands were still gripping the sword that was raised above his head, but the blade that was protruding from his abdomen stayed his hand. She watched in horror as the blade was pulled out of his stomach; the man's eyes were glazed over and the sword fell from his hands as blood began to bubble from between his lips. Then he fell.

"Watch it, love. I'd hate for something to happen to you before I even knew your name."

It was the pirate – the one that had been talking to her all evening. He looked away from her, scanning the street, making sure it was secure.

"Looks like they're retreating." Emma studied him. He appeared to be uninjured, but there was a long gash through his leather coat that could have been bad had it landed a few inches closer to his body. Her eyes drifted up to his face and she was surprised to find him staring at her.

"Emma! Emma, oh my god – are you ok?" Ruby was frantic with worry as she ran up, grabbing onto Emma's upper arms. "You're not hurt are you? Oh god, August is going to kill me if you're hurt… he'll never forgive me! You're not bleeding, are you? You weren't stabbed? What about those guys – did they touch you?"

"Ruby, I'm fine!" She cut off her panicked friend's rambling. "At the most, I'll have a bruise on my arm where one guy grabbed me. Other than that, I'm not hurt." Ruby's concern melted away into a relief.

"Oh, thank god! I was so worried… I was running just like you said but when I looked back you weren't there. I couldn't see you anywhere." Ruby released her bruising grip and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so glad you're ok."

"You too, Rubes." Emma hugged her back, giving a little squeeze so she'd know that she'd been just as worried about her.

Ruby released her and stepped back as she noticed the dark-haired pirate. The three were silent for a moment before Ruby muttered something about checking on her brother and scampered away. He stared at her, his eyes betraying something deeper than the carefree and flirtatious spark from earlier in the evening. It was darker – angrier. It caused her to break out in goosebumps even though she knew the anger wasn't directed at her.

"You're not hurt." It wasn't phrased as a question but she saw the look in his eyes; something akin to concern.

"I'm not hurt."

And with that, the tension eased and he smiled at her; not a smirk, or a leer, or a grin – a genuine smile. It was infectious. To prevent a smile of her own, she stared down at the ground between them.

"I owe you thanks, pirate." She refused to meet his eyes. "You saved my life."

"Well, now – don't you sound like a proper lady." Her eyes shot up at his statement; he was grinning, teasing her. "Although, you certainly didn't look a proper lady while you were shooting arrows into those brigands' chests."

"Me? A proper lady? Ha!" She scoffed. "Fancy parties, sipping tea and making small talk, wearing a god-awful dress… where's the fun in that? I'd prefer a crazy bar – even on a night like this – over that any day."

"Too true, love. So…" He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space; there were only a few inches between them now and his smile was making it hard for her to breathe. "Are you going to tell me your name now?" His hand stretched out, reaching for the ends of her hair; he twirled it around his finger waiting for her answer.

Why didn't she want to tell him her name, again? She couldn't seem to remember anymore. Something about personal and… – why did he have to stare at her like that? – … and about not everyone needing... – why was he still touching her hair?! –... not everyone needing to know something. Yeah, so she couldn't even think coherently anymore. She sighed, exasperated – oh, why the hell not.

"It's Emma. Emma Swan."

His eyes were such an astonishing shade of blue. She could feel herself sinking into them and absent-mindedly thought how he would be trouble.

"Nice to meet you, love. Killian Jones – but most people call me Hook."


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would already be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I, once again, swiped another of Hook's lines from a movie – this time from The Princess and the Frog. Consider it a courtesy of the nights I spend watching Disney movies when I get sick.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**A Temporary Escape and A Surprising Agreement**

"_I believe in kindness… also in mischief."_

* * *

Emma pulled the hood of her cloak a little higher over her head and pushed a telltale strand of blonde hair out of her face; the last thing she wanted was for someone to recognize her. She was currently crouched beside the eastern palace wall, squeezed between a bush and an oak tree and completely hidden from view; it was one of her favorite hiding places but she wasn't hiding today. No, today she was escaping.

Just for a little while, though.

Her morning had started off normally enough. After being awakened for breakfast with her family, she had been ushered off to her morning studies. Also growing up as a princess, her mother had been exposed to all of the best things in life, including the best instructors; because of this, Emma considered her one of the most knowledgeable people in the kingdom. While her father was charismatic, ruling with the genial good nature he learned from growing up on just a humble farm, her mother was wise and compassionate, winning over the people in the kingdom by inspiration and her refinement alone. This was how the two of them managed to spur the people into action and win back the kingdom that was rightfully theirs in the war against the Evil Queen.

Because of her past, her mother considered it of the utmost importance that Emma be given the best instruction. History, mathematics, geography, politics, and culture studies were just a few of the standard lessons she'd go through on a daily basis, although her mother insisted there also be time set aside for the arts – painting and drawing, crafts like sewing or knitting, and music. For the most part, Emma enjoyed her studies and would often drag out the lessons with question upon question for more detail; however, this morning she'd rushed through, denying even the need for a quick break. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she could leave.

Today she was going to the marketplace.

Alone.

Crouched by the wall, Emma shivered with the excitement. She was absolutely not allowed beyond the palace walls without an escort of some sort, but in the midnight hours from a couple nights past, she'd decided she would venture out on her own. She checked her cloak one more time; everyone in the market would recognize her if they saw her face, hence her coverings.

Emma watched the guards traipse past the small gate – she'd chosen one of the smaller, side gates to escape through as it was much more discreet – and turn towards the western wall before she took off at a sprint; with their backs to her, they never even noticed her slip by their post. Emma continued to sprint down the roads, not slowing down until she was comfortably far from the palace. Glancing back at the sparkling towers, she grinned happily and spun in a circle. Freedom at last.

The sound of laughter, drums, and hundreds of voices reached her ears long before she ever caught sight of the market, and when she finally reached it, she was pleased at all the commotion; she loved that the marketplace was always a flurry of movement and sound. Row upon row of tents stretched out before her, vendors attempting to coax buyers to their stands to buy various items. Emma wandered through, pausing here and there to inspect this trinket that would 'cause her true love to find her' or that totem that would 'ward off even the most evil spirit.' She made sure to keep her face hidden, though.

She'd been gone for almost four hours when a colorful tent caught her eye as she turned from the portly gentleman that was currently trying to sell her fish. It wasn't a large tent, but it made up for its lack of size with color; there was every color of the rainbow, and many that were in between, in the items displayed. Emma worked her way through the throng of people until she stood at the tent. Scarves. That's what the vendor was selling, what was so colorful. She reached out, brushing her fingers against the delicate fabric of a lilac colored scarf; it was so beautiful. But she hadn't brought along any money.

"Hello, dear. Would you like to take a closer look?" The seller was an elderly woman with a kind face that reminded her of her grandmother, the one on her father's side; she'd never met her grandparents on her mother's side, them having died before she was born. The lady motioned to the scarf Emma had been admiring. "I'm sure it would look lovely on you."

"Oh, I'd love to but I don't have any money. Thank you, though. They're very pretty." Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Money wasn't the only thing she'd forgotten to bring; she'd also left the palace without remembering to bring along some food.

"Sounds like you're hungry." The lady was still smiling at her. "There's an apple stand right down there a ways. Go down there and tell him Granny sent you; he'll be sure to give you an apple." Emma smiled in appreciation.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." She turned and wound her way past several more tents before she spotted the apple stand. They looked delicious.

"Excuse me, sir?" The man turned, his protruding belly almost hitting her. "I'm terribly hungry and the lady that sells scarves down there – Granny – well, she told me to come down here and tell you that she sent me. She said you'd give me an apple."

"Oh, she told you that, huh?" The man was looking down at her, a sneer on his lips. "Well, too bad, kid. I can't afford to feed charity cases."

Charity cases? The nerve. She had half a mind to inform him that she was no charity case, but he'd already turned back around to face his real, willing-to-pay customers. Oh well, it was her own fault, really. Coming out here without food or money had been dumb; she'd make sure to be better prepared next time. But still… her eyes wandered back to the apples. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was now well past noon, probably closer to dinnertime. The man was still talking to his other customers, his back to her; he would probably never even realize it if… because, really, it was only _one_ apple… and she could always come back another day to repay him. Her hand twitched, itching to reach for the red fruit in front of her.

But stealing was _wrong_.

But she was so _hungry_.

But she couldn't just take something that wasn't hers…

Could she?

Her stomach growled again, the aching hollow feeling making her feel light-headed and slightly sick, and that was the last push she needed. She reached out, snatching the apple closest to her before easing away, trying to slide back into the crowd.

"Hey, that girl stole an apple!"

Emma's eyes shot up in panic; a young woman with a baby on her hip was pointing straight at her and the man was already coming for her, an angry look in his eyes. She pushed against the wall of people behind her, desperate to get away, but he was too quick. In a flash, he'd grabbed her and pulled her forward, away from the crowd and her only chance of escape.

"I told you I ain't no charity case, kid – now, give me that!" He pulled the apple from her hands, tossing it back onto the cart. With his merchandise safely returned, he focused his full attention on Emma. "You think you can steal from Bartok and get away with it? Think you're pretty smart, little thief?" He strengthened his grip on her arm and then pulled her into the air. The man was crushing her wrist, dangling her several feet above the ground; she felt like her shoulder would dislocate at any second, the weight of her body too much for the small socket to hold. Her free hand clawed at the hand wrapped around her wrist like a vice while she attempted a kick towards his body, but it was in vain; her legs were far too short to reach him. He shook her roughly.

"Do you know what we do to thieves around here, girl? We take them in chains to the King and Queen for a trial, and when they're found guilty they're dumped into the prison pit to wait out the rest of their lives alone. That is, unless the King and Queen decide to execute them instead of letting them take up valuable prison room."

Of course, Emma knew that what he was saying was ridiculous; her parents would never treat anyone so atrociously no matter what the crime. Wisely, though, she decided to hold her tongue instead of attempting to refute his statement.

"So what'll it be, girl? Shall I drag you up to the palace in chains? Let them make an example out of you? Answer me, thief!" He shook her roughly again, except this time her hood fell back exposing her face and telling blonde hair. Immediately, the crowd gasped and the man released her wrist in surprise; she fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Emma could hear the whispers race through the crowd like wildfire.

_The princess…_

_It's Princess Emma…_

_What's she doing here?_

_And dressed like that?_

_Where on earth is her escort?_

Her exciting little escapade had come to a crashing end.

"Milady… Princess. Please forgive me!" The man – Bartok – crouched on his knees in front of her. "If I'd known it was you…"

"Sir, stand back, if you will." It was a couple of the palace guards; someone in the crowd must have gone to fetch them when she was exposed. "Princess, are you ok?" The guard reached out, gently taking her wrist in his hand and inspecting it for any breaks.

"I… I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it, Princess. Now, we must get you back to the palace; the King and Queen have been very worried about you."

Great… her parents already knew she'd run off; that meant these guards had already been out looking for her. Emma let the guard pull her to her feet and lead her away to a carriage. As she stepped up into the carriage, she glanced behind her. The crowd hadn't moved an inch, they stood there as if they were frozen, staring at her; Bartok was still kneeling on the ground. She sighed, disappointed, and the driver closed the door.

The ride back to the palace was long, the driver slowly maneuvering the busy streets, but it wasn't nearly long enough. Emma dreaded the conversation she knew would take place when she arrived home. And true enough, as the carriage pulled in front of the palace's main gates, her parents were standing there waiting for her. She waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out, her stomach flopping around nervously as she made her way up the steps.

"Mother." The greeting came out as a tiny whisper. "Father." It was hard to meet their eyes; it was obvious as to how angry and upset they were.

"Let's take this inside, shall we?" Her father's softly spoken words did nothing to ease her nervousness. Emma had learned at a very young age that her father was somewhat quick to anger but that a majority of the time it was fleeting, burning out as quickly as it started; he would react, possibly yell, and then return to his normal self. It was when he remained calm, in times such as this, that it really worried her. She followed her parents wordlessly through the doors, up the grand staircase, and down the hallways to her father's study, doing her best to ignore the pitying stares of the house staff along the way. She felt claustrophobic, ensnared, as her father closed the door.

"We are very disappointed in you, Emma! I don't know what possessed you to leave the palace unattended. You're only ten, Emma – ten! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to wander off alone? What could've happened to you?" Her mother was yelling at her and it was the first time Emma had ever experienced that; her mother was always calm, never yelled. Guess there's a first time for everything. "You are a princess. There are plenty of people in this kingdom who would gladly snatch up a young princess for their own gain."

"Why would anyone want me?" Emma was confused. "I haven't done anything."

"It's not what you have or haven't done – it's simply who you are." It was her father that spoke now, her mom having turned away seemingly unable to even look at her. His voice was calmer. "You are an important part of this kingdom, of this family. We love you so much, sweetheart, and we would do anything, absolutely anything, for you… and everyone in this kingdom knows it. If there were someone out there that wished to do us harm, wished to get to us, all they'd have to do is go through you."

Emma couldn't help but notice the shudder that swept through her mother.

"But why would someone want to hurt or get to you? I've already heard all the stories about how you and Mom finally caught the Evil Queen and banished her from the kingdom… without her around, there's no one else to hurt you. I thought everyone was happy now."

"They are, dear. We just worry about you so much." Her mother had cut back in now. "We want you to be careful."

"I'll be careful from now on, Mom, I promise. I'm sorry…" Emma was sorry, to an extent; sorry she got caught.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's ok." Her father put his arm over her mother's shoulders. "I understand why you wanted to go out on your own; you're growing up so fast."

"Do you think…" Emma hesitated, unsure whether she should even ask. "Do you think I could ever go back to the market?"

"Of course, baby. We'll take you back down there tomorrow, if you want." Her mother was smiling at her now.

"I meant… I meant alone. You know, by myself." The smile was gone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. She shouldn't have even asked.

"Absolutely not."

"But Mom…"

"Not without an escort."

"But Mom, that's not…"

"Enough, Emma!" More yelling. Emma scowled and refused to meet her mother's eyes, stubbornly staring at the floor instead. "You will stay within the castle walls unless accompanied by an escort. End of story."

Silence filled the room; it was a harsh silence that seemed to ring in Emma's ears after all of the yelling. She struggled to hold back her tears. They weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of anger, but even still, she refused to cry in front of anyone – even her parents – refused to even sniffle. When she knew her voice wouldn't crack and betray her, she spoke.

"May I be excused now?"

Her mother sighed and it was a sad sound; she reached forward and pulled Emma into her arms but it was a one-sided embrace. Emma didn't wrap her arms around her mother's body, didn't return the hug. She kept her arms glued to her sides, hands clenched into fists. Her mother squeezed just a little before releasing her.

"Yes, you're excused. Would you like some dinner before you go upstairs?"

"No, thank you."

And with that, Emma exited her father's study.

Hours later, Emma lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her hands tucked behind her head; she hadn't moved from the position since she got back from the talk with her parents. When she was just a small child, her parents had asked the Blue Fairy to cast a spell on her ceiling so that it replicated the sky outside; by doing so, they ensured that she would always be able to see outside even when she wasn't allowed to actually _be_ outside. Now, she stared up at the inky blackness of her ceiling. The sliver of the waning moon hung in one of the far corners of the room, its soft light allowing her to make out the hundreds of thousands of stars that stretched across the sky.

Her eyes drifted from star to star, picking out the constellations she knew so well – Orion, the hunter; Ursa Major, the great bear; Pegasus, the flying horse; Perseus, the hero; Aquila, the eagle; Leo, the lion; Sagittarius, the archer; Cygnus, the swan. Her mother had taught her all of the constellations, would lie out on the grass of the palace lawn and point them out to her night after night until she'd learned them all and where to find them by heart. She was probably only four or five years old at the time.

It was one of her fondest memories of her mother.

"_And see those stars right there?" Her mother was leaning back against an old tree stump, Emma tucked between her legs and leaning back against her body. Her mother's finger moved from light to light, outlining the shape in the heavens. "That's Cygnus, the swan."_

"_Hey!" She'd shouted out with the happiness only a child's innocence can have. "My name is Swan!"_

_Her mother had then gathered her into a hug. "That's right, my beautiful little swan – you are so precious and so loved that the gods named the stars after you."_

"_They did?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart, they did."_

"_Wow…"_

Childlike innocence, indeed. Too bad it doesn't last. At the tender age of only ten years old, Emma already felt like a cynic.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Emma was out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown, and making her way silently down the hall to her parent's bedroom. Once she arrived there, she stopped; she had no clue why she'd even come down here. But then she heard it – their muffled voices through the door. It was so late… why were they even still awake? Quietly, she eased up to the wood and pressed her ear against it, trying to make out what her parents were saying.

"You know the plan, Snow. We have to stick to it."

"It's too risky…"

"Riskier than the alternative? I doubt it."

"We can't tell her."

"Well, we can't just let her grow up oblivious, either. Unless she knows the seriousness of the situation, she'll keep pushing the boundaries." Her father paused. "And we'll keep having incidents like this evening."

"I did what I had to…"

"Snow, you don't think maybe you were a little too harsh? She doesn't know, doesn't understand the danger yet. If we just tell her…"

"How could she even _begin_ to accept what's going on?" It went quiet, but Emma couldn't tell if they'd stopped talking or just lowered their voices. Then she heard her mother again. "I can't lose her, Charming. She means the world to me and I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe, even if it means she'll hate me for it."

Emma retreated from the door and padded silently down the hallway back to her room. Flopping down on her bed, she knew she would be awake for most of the night; her head just wouldn't stop going over everything that happened that day. She once again stared at the ceiling, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. She had no idea what her parents had been talking about, some plan and whatever danger was out there, but she did know one thing – that one day, she'd leave this place. If not, she was absolutely sure she'd go crazy. She'd do anything to get out; she'd run away, if that's what it took.

Emma bolted upright in her bed.

That's it – she'd run away! She'd run away and, far from her overbearing parents and any danger they thought was waiting for her, she'd finally be able to experience the world, live her own dreams. But it would have to be somewhere far away, somewhere no one would be able to recognize her. Anywhere even remotely close to the kingdom would be too risky; people would know her, tip off her parents as to her location. Yes, somewhere really far away…

She lay down, then, more content than she'd been in a while. The idea burned through her brain and she began to plan how she could make it work and that gave her hope; hope that she wouldn't be subject to all this hoity-toity royal nonsense, to the boring and dull future her parents had envisioned for her. Yes, she'd run away. Then she could watch the stars in the real sky, pointing them out from a flower-filled meadow or a windy beach or a snow-covered mountainside. Emma finally drifted off to sleep, a small smile on her face.

* * *

"Em, are you about done with the rags? I need to wipe these tables off."

"Yeah, here you go."

The Salty Dog Inn was a hole-in-the-wall sort of business; it didn't look very appealing from the outside, but inside it was warm, welcoming, and homey. Upon entering the front door, guests would come into a narrow room, a small lobby of sorts with a desk against the right wall where they could pay for a room. When they were younger, Ruby and Emma used to manage that part of the inn; however, as they got older, Ruby's father realized it would be more monetarily beneficial for the two of them to run the pub instead of August, and so they'd swapped responsibilities. After getting a room key from August, the guests had the choice to either go up the stairs to their left that led to the rooms that spread over the second and third floor or go through the wide doorway directly in front of them to the pub. The rooms upstairs were nothing special, but then, most of the people that came to Tortuga weren't exactly expecting refined accommodations to start with. The pub was a different story. It was a decent-sized room that spread over the remaining ground floor. Rustic beams hung on the ceiling, the floors were well-worn from years of traffic, long oak tables and benches spread out in rows throughout the room, and all this led to the polished wooden bar that ran along the entire back wall of the room.

Emma loved everything about it.

She tossed the rag across the bar to Ruby's waiting hand. It was getting close to opening time so they were doing some last-minute cleaning to get ready for the evening rush. Emma idly arranged the rows of mugs on the counter before stooping to pick up the club that had fallen out of its cubby; her thoughts drifted back to the last night she'd had to use it. They never had figured out what happened that night in Tortuga. The most they could deduce was that the attack was revenge-based; most likely bad blood between the crews of two different ships. Everyone else just happened to get caught in the crossfire. But such was the way in Tortuga. Always exciting, rarely dull.

"Ladies." A man greeted Emma as he walked through the door and up to the bar. "You look ravishing tonight, Emma." He was attractive, his wavy brown hair falling over his forehead; he was also someone she could never sleep with. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but give him a hard time.

"It's a little early to start drinking, isn't it? And alone, no less."

"Alas, that's the life of a lone wolf – alone more often than not. However, feel free to accompany me and spare me my loneliness any time." He leaned forward over the bar towards her, eyebrows raised cheekily. Ruby chose that moment to enter from the kitchen.

"Graham, stop harassing my friend or I'll have to hurt you."

"Ruby, darling!" His eyes shot to the brunette immediately. Emma knew that no matter how many times he threw cheesy pickup lines her way, he always had his eyes set on Ruby; she was the prize. "I've missed you, gorgeous – tell me you've missed me too." Her friend cocked an eyebrow at him.

"In your dreams, buddy."

"You wound me." Not to be brushed off so easily, Graham followed her to the end of the bar, smiling at her charmingly. "Ruby, when are you going to go on a date with me?"

"You're ridiculous. You know very well how many _dates_ we've gone on." Ruby emphasized the word dates and it was ironic because they'd never really been on a date; not an official one, at least. Their relationship was more of the casual hookup type. Most people would call it a one-night stand but their trysts had spanned over the course of the past few years.

Graham had come to Tortuga almost four years ago in an attempt to escape the law.

"_I'm a huntsman, you see. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it's not always animals. Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I'm on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out."_

From the first evening he'd shown up at the inn, he'd had eyes for Ruby; he'd spent the whole night flirting shamelessly with her until she finally relented, going back to his place for the night. From that point, they'd been… well, lovers was the only word that could really describe it. Despite their obvious mutual attraction, though, neither one of them had ever made any move to be exclusive. This meant their time together consisted of mainly sex and little else and that each of them was free to sleep with whoever else they wished. Emma knew for a fact that both Ruby and Graham abided by those rules; she could remember plenty of instances where Ruby had left early to sleep with a guest and plenty of nights where Graham had stumbled out of the bar with a random woman. After a couple years, Graham had moved to a small port a little south of Tortuga but still came into town occasionally for business; when he _was_ in town Emma didn't see much of Ruby.

"Yes, but it's been entirely too long…" He lowered his voice and Emma saw him seize Ruby's hand out of the corner of her eye. He began to whisper words to Ruby soothingly to which the brunette smiled in return, and Emma decided to move away from the bar to give them some privacy. They were adorable together, obviously infatuated, yet so stubborn. Emma was sure that Graham would willingly stay with only Ruby, but her friend had always been the one to set a limit on their relationship; she'd grown up as a barmaid in Tortuga – she didn't trust any man that walked through the door with her heart.

Emma could empathize with her on that. Tortuga was no place to fall in love.

The bar began to fill up as the evening wore on; men filed in, tired from a hard day's work on the docks or ships and eager for a drink to help them relax. It was a quiet evening though, as far as work was concerned. The majority of the men scattered around the bar were regulars and, therefore, didn't hassle Emma or Ruby too much. It was getting late, close to midnight, when she heard it.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, love."

Emma's hands stilled on the bottles of liquor she'd been handling; she hadn't heard his voice in nearly four months. After their initial meeting that first night, he'd only stayed in town until the next day before sailing out for god knows where, but he had stopped in before he'd left to tell her goodbye.

"_Hello, beautiful."_

"_What was the point of me telling you my name if you're not going to use it?" _

"_It's for future reference, love; insurance, if you will. Might come in handy someday." Hook flashed a grin her way and she was absolutely sure that's how he managed to get all the women into his bed. He was too handsome, and the problem was that he knew it._

"_You're here awfully early, Hook; it's only three. We won't be open for a few more hours."_

"_I know. I decided to stop by on the chance that I could get some one-on-one time with you. You know… alone. Just the two of us." He looked at her suggestively, playing with her. Emma turned to the bar, busying herself with straightening items and cleaning; she was doing her best not to look at him, trying to play at disinterest._

"_Yeah, I know what one-on-one means and you're not getting any."_

"_You sure, love? You don't know what you're missing."_

"_That good, huh?"_

"_Never had a complaint."_

"_For some reason I doubt that." Actually, no she didn't. Emma was pretty sure Hook knew his way around a bed and a woman's body all too well._

"_You never know until you try it."_

"_And what makes you think you have anything I want to try?"_

"_You know you're curious." Did he ever stop smirking? "Resistance is a dangerous game, love, and most likely futile."_

"_Hardly. You'll sail out of here and forget all about this little tavern wench before too long."_

"_You're no common tavern wench… And anyways, how could I forget you?"_

"_Because you'll have so many other women throwing themselves at you, eager to 'try what you have to offer,' as you put it."_

"_I won't forget you, love, especially when you have so many things that I want to try."_

"_God, do you ever stop?" The laugh she'd been holding back finally burst out, unable to hold it back any longer._

"_I actually came down here to tell you that I'm leaving." Her eyes shot to his, her laugh dying in her throat. His face was completely serious, all traces of their earlier, playful banter gone._

"_You're sailing out? So soon?" Emma kicked herself. She didn't care if he was leaving already – really, she didn't. Really._

"_Aye. Bit of bad news came my way this morning, something I need to take care of." He reached forward, playing with the tips of her hair like he had the night before. "We'll be pushing off within the hour."_

_Emma didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything._

"_Last night was a little more hectic than I imagined it would be… kind of disrupted the evening I had planned for us."_

_She still didn't know what to say._

"_I would've liked to have spent more time in your delightful company."_

_And she still didn't know what to say._

"_Especially since you're so eloquent." He smirked, teasing her silence, and she rolled her eyes._

"_Oh, shut up." Excellent comeback, Emma – what was she, five? He was still playing with her hair. "Be careful out there; it looks like it could storm any moment."_

"_The sea hasn't bested me yet, not to say she hasn't tried."_

"_You're probably just too stubborn." She grinned back at him._

"_That I am; I never give up on a challenge." Emma wasn't sure if they were just talking about the sea anymore. "You be careful, too, love; keep that bow handy."_

_Hook backed away then, dropping his hand before walking for the exit. He paused, one hand on the door, and said something over his shoulder with his signature grin before walking out. The words seemed to float across the room to her in slow motion._

"_Think about me, Miss Swan." _

_As if she could forget him._

"Bloody hell – look what the storm blew in." Emma said it with a playful smirk on her face as she turned and crossed her arms, her eyes meeting Hook's blue ones. "I tell you, they'll let anyone in here nowadays."

"Ah, I missed you too, love."

He looked good. She'd forgotten how good.

"Emma, can you get me a…" Ruby trailed off when she noticed just who exactly was across the bar. Emma's eyes never left Hook's but she knew her friend well enough to know she was probably grinning from ear to ear; Ruby had pestered her insistently over the past four months about Hook, always finding ways to casually bring him up in their conversations.

"Sorry, lass, but Emma's done for the evening."

What?

"She has other business to attend to."

Emma's shocked silence was broken. "Is that so? And pray tell, what business will I be attending?"

"You have a date with me." She opened her mouth to shut him down right there but he interjected before she could even speak. "Relax, love – it'll just be you and me and a couple drinks. We can even stay here at the bar, if you'd like." The implication that their date could have occurred somewhere else was not lost on her. Ugh… pirates. He stood there, grinning at her casually; most likely, he was hoping for her to say they could go somewhere more private. She motioned to the tables, instead.

"Let's have a seat." Translation – _I'm not going to sleep with you_.

Hook led the way to an empty table and Emma settled down across from him. It was a surprisingly nice conversation, apart from the occasional innuendo thrown her way, and Emma found herself enjoying the evening. She asked how he'd been; he asked if she'd had any more reasons to shoot her bow. She asked where he'd been sailing the past few months; he asked whether she ever traveled outside Tortuga. She asked what made him want to live on the seas; he asked if she'd thought about him at all. It was a tame exchange for him, she was sure.

"I've been curious, love – where did you learn to shoot a bow? Not exactly a common weapon for a pirate."

"My parents weren't pirates and I didn't grow up in Tortuga; I didn't come here until I was twelve. My parents tried to teach me ways to defend myself when I was younger but archery was the only thing that stuck."

"Yes, I'd say you have a knack for it. So how _does_ a young lass end up in Tortuga, of all places, as a barmaid? I'm sensing there are a lot of things that happened between point A and point B."

"I'd prefer not to talk about it."

And cue awkward silence.

Hook stared at her, the light-hearted look sliding off his face at her serious tone. There was something about him, Emma could feel it; something deeper, covered up by all of his bravado and flirting. A dark look flitted across his face and she knew he understood her reluctance to talk. Everyone had their demons and he obviously was haunted by those of his own past. Some things were just better left unsaid. Hook reached for his tankard and tipped it towards her slightly in a mock salute before taking a drink.

"A bow is only helpful from a distance; you really should learn the art of swordplay. Couldn't hurt, especially around these parts." It was an attempt to bring the conversation back to easier territory; Emma appreciated the effort. Without warning, Hook slammed his tankard onto the table. "I've got it – I'll teach you."

That was definitely not what she'd been expecting him to say.

"Umm, no… you really don't have to…"

"Nonsense – you're a delicate lass in need of an education. What kind of man would I be to allow you to remain so exposed to the dangers of the world without proper protection?" She frowned at his absurd statements.

"I'm hardly delicate."

"Maybe so – but you _are_ in desperate need of an instructor; you're just lucky that you get one that's easy to look at."

"Don't flatter yourself, Hook." His smug grin assured her that he could see right through her snub. "Why are you even offering to teach me? In case you haven't noticed, I live in Tortuga. Seventy-five percent of the men that live here know swordplay; the other twenty-five percent are just too old to remember or too young to have learned it yet." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "What's in it for you?"

"Being able to enjoy the view would be a start. And we can't forget the physical contact…"

"Good lord, would you be like this the whole time?"

"I'm only a man, love; I find it very hard to _not_ notice your various… charms."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her better judgment. She'd grown up working in a bar frequented by pirates and rogues; these types of come-ons shouldn't make her react the way she was. The difference, she realized, was that most of the men that hit on her like Hook was didn't look like Hook did. She couldn't deny that he really was nice to look at, found it hard not to notice his 'charms.' The lack of a response from her confirmed it for him; she could see the look in his eyes – he knew he had her.

"So, shall we discuss the terms of payment?"

What? The sudden turn in the conversation made her pause before she answered him, incredulous.

"But you _offered_ to teach me!"

"I'm a pirate, love – I don't do anything for free." Of course not.

"Then it's your lucky day because I really don't think I'm in need of any instruct…"

"A kiss."

Emma stared at Hook, not even caring that he'd cut her off; she was searching, searching for that gleam that was always in his eyes during their bantering but she came up short. He was dead serious.

"That's my price. One kiss to be claimed at a date and time of my choosing."

"That's awfully forward of you, Hook."

Shoulders shrugging upwards, he ignored her statement. "You never know when the ability to wield a blade might come in handy." Emma was distinctly reminded of her father trying to convince her mother to allow her to learn how to protect herself with similar words. "Like I said, a long-distance kill is preferable, but you can't always depend on that. You need to know how to defend yourself if things get up close and personal."

Tortuga was a dangerous town. It was far outside the influences of the King and Queen, making it difficult to govern and control; this meant very few royal soldiers ever came through to check up on its activities. It was one of the reasons Emma had chosen this place to settle. Hook wasn't an idiot – Emma knew that he was well aware of the dangers often presented in port towns; the brawl from his prior visit was proof of that. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn't been around…

"Just one kiss?"

"Just one." He confirmed with a sly smile, the glint returning to his eyes. "Unless you beg for more."

"You wish…"

"The thought has crossed my mind on more than occasion."

Emma glared at him, eyes narrowed. She didn't have to learn from him; hell, she didn't have to learn swordplay in general. But if something _were_ to happen, if she was in close quarters with an attacker… well, there was no way her bow would do her any good unless she were to beat it over their head in which case it would probably break before doing her foe any real damage. But still…

"I could always get someone else; it doesn't have to be you."

Hook smiled and it was mostly genuine. Mostly.

"But you don't want it to be someone else." Voice low, he was calling her bluff. "Come on, Swan. I promise I don't bite. I won't even touch you – unless you ask me to, that is."

"Oh, so now you're a gentleman?"

"I'm always a gentleman."

"You're a pirate."

"That too."

* * *

**Who's excited for the new OUAT episode tonight?**

**Just an FYI – the beginning flashbacks will jump around a bit. In chapter one, Emma was twelve; here she was ten. I'll always put some kind of reference in there to help you figure out where exactly it fits in the timeline of everything. **

**Also, these first few chapters will be a little slower. I need some time to set up the characters and some backstories – and maybe throw in a few tidbits that you won't even know are important until later – before I let things take off. Right now it looks like things will heat up around chapter four.**

**Thanks to everyone for the awesome reactions to the first chapter!**


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**An Attack and A Parry**

"_The earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair."_

* * *

"Strike – that's good. Now what? Ah ok, you cut down and I block. And a spin to the left – excellent move – but I block again. What will you do now? Out of ideas? Alright, let's put you on the defensive."

Emma gripped the long sword in her hands, her arms trembling with the strength it took to hold the blade out against its opponent. The opposing blade slid down hers with a metallic scratching sound, slipping free and swinging around towards her unprotected right side. Thinking on her feet, Emma slid her right foot back and swung her sword, effectively stopping the blade with a harsh clang.

"Good job – and now we move again."

Her father continued his advance, using move after move, forcing her to think and react quickly. All of the moves he utilized were ones that he'd taught her over the past few years and Emma realized that he was testing her. An exam, of sorts, a way to demonstrate all that she'd learned. He would press forward, forcing her to parry his attack before dropping back and allowing her to move against him. It never lasted long, though – her father was much too good and she tired quickly. With a flick of his wrist, her sword was twisted from her fingers and fell a foot away.

"Let's take a break."

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Breathing heavily, Emma sat down and decided not to care about the seat of her trousers getting wet from the dewy grass. With her arms resting on her knees, Emma tried to catch her breath after the exertions. The Enchanted Forest was on the cusp of fall; all of the trees' leaves were a beautiful combination of oranges and golds and there was a crisp bite to the cool morning air. Despite the chill, she had worked up a sweat that made her shirt cling to her back and caused the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail to stick to her clammy skin. Emma was sure her mother would be horrified at the un-ladylikeness of it all.

"You're getting very good, sweetheart. You've improved a lot."

"Thanks, Dad. But I have to say, I still prefer archery."

"That's only because you don't have to practice at it as much." Which was true.

Emma had been roughly six and a half when her father abruptly decided he was going to toughen her up. According to him, he couldn't stand to see her grow up solely under her mother's coddling influence and turn out like too much of a girly-girl. So he began to teach her the art of swordplay, archery, and horseback riding.

After almost five years, Emma found that she still struggled with sword fighting the most; it just wasn't something she had a natural gift for and never had the desire to practice and improve. Archery, on the other hand, was what she truly enjoyed. It had taken her all of a couple hours to begin mastering the weapon and her parents had been astounded. Within six months, Emma was able to best even the highest-ranking soldier in the royal guard.

"_I think I know where she gets it." Her father looked at her mother's surprised face as Emma ran up to them. She'd just won a shooting match against Jefferson, one of the best archers in the royal guard. Emma could hardly contain her excitement as her mother's face slowly broke out into a proud smile._

"Oh, Emma, why are you all dirty? And why are you wearing those pants?" Emma's head swiveled around to see her mother descending the steps to the lawn.

"She can't very well duel in a skirt or dress, now, can she?" Her father's voice was teasing as he winked in Emma's direction.

"She _shouldn't_ be learning how to duel at all." Her mother's tone was disapproving.

"Well, then she can't very well ride horses in a skirt or dress, can she?"

"She shouldn't be riding any horses either!"

Emma smiled at the exchange between her parents. It had been a constant battle between the two of them as far back as she could remember. Her father wanted to raise her to be a strong and independent girl that could take care of herself, if need be; her mother wanted to raise her to be a prim and proper princess. The difference in their parenting styles often led to these kinds of discussions.

"All of this fighting, Charming, teaching her swordplay and archery… must you?" Her mother whispered, not realizing that Emma could still hear her just fine. Her father's hands rested on his wife's upper arms before pulling her into an embrace.

"She'll be fine, dear; she's so well protected here I doubt any kind of harm could ever befall her. Even still - you never know when it might come in handy." He pulled back and tipped her mother's face towards his, looking her in the eyes. "It came in handy for you to know these things, didn't it?"

"That was different."

Her parents stared at each other for a moment, some private and silent conversation passing between them, before her mother turned.

"Emma, it's almost time for your afternoon lessons. Why don't you go on inside and clean up a bit before you go?"

"Do I have to?" At the look on her mother's face, Emma turned to stare pleadingly at her father. Nope, there would be no backup from him. "Very well." It came out as a frustrated sigh. Before she left, though…

Emma turned back to the target and drew her bow. The nocking point rested against her cheekbone, her knuckle brushed the curve of her ear, the string hovered centimeters from the tip of her nose. Her back was taut with the tension of pulling the bow back and her left hand pressed firmly against the hand rest, holding everything steady. She stared down the shaft of the arrow, calmly exhaling the breath she always held when preparing to shoot. A breeze drifted by; a few leaves blew across her view and a lock of hair fluttered to land in her face, but her vision was fixated on the target.

Then, she released.

"Well done, darling. Excellent shot. Now go on and give Grumpy your bow and let's go inside."

Emma handed off the bow to the dwarf, satisfied, before turning to follow her parents. She missed the look on Grumpy's face as he stared across the field, looking at her shot.

The arrow was sunk deep in the target, directly in the bull's-eye.

* * *

Emma swung around, bringing her sword down to parry an imaginary attack from an imaginary foe.

Then she pushed the imaginary blade away and swung her sword across her body, making the imaginary person stumble back.

Then she leaped forward into a lunge, thrusting her sword between the imaginary ribs of the imaginary assailant.

Then she triumphantly watched the imaginary man fall to the ground as he gave a dramatic imaginary gasp with the last of his imaginary breath.

Clearly, Emma had too much of an imagination.

And she probably looked like an idiot.

Feeling self-conscious, Emma glanced around the clearing – nothing. She had found this little area while wandering around one day not long after she'd first arrived in Tortuga. It was roughly a quarter mile outside town and hidden by the thick forest that surrounded it on all sides; the perfect place to get some alone time. Or to practice her swordplay without everyone watching her.

She twirled the short sword in her hand before grasping it firmly again. It was a wicked little thing – roughly two feet long, its blade curved slightly before tapering to a sharp point and it had edges so sharp they gleamed. Hook had given it to her.

"_What the hell is that?" _

_Hook looked between Emma and the blade in his hand. "It's a short sword." As if that was the most obvious thing in the world._

"_It looks like a toothpick."_

"_Trust me, it stabs quite a bit deeper than a toothpick."_

"_I want a longer sword." She crossed her arms and tried to stare him down._

"_Too bad. My lessons, my rules – you get this one."_

"_But it's too tiny."_

"_It works just fine."_

"_Then why don't you use it?"_

"_Just take the damn thing, woman!"_

_It was smaller, much smaller, than the swords she'd grown up seeing. Her father had always used a long sword; it would stretch far in front him and, as she watched him practice, she'd always wondered how on earth anyone could ever hurt him. With a reach that long, he should've been able to chop anyone to bits before they could even get close. If she were to go up against her father with the short sword Hook was offering to her, he'd easily skewer her before she could even get close. _

_With an exaggerated huff, Emma pulled the sword from his hand. It was lighter than she expected, but then again she hadn't handled a sword since she was probably eleven or so._

"_Longer swords can be unwieldy, love; they're slower to move and require more effort. A short sword will suit you much better." Emma looked at him with doubt. "Trust me." At her continued look of uncertainty, he sighed. "Repeat after me, Swan: bigger does not mean better."_

"_Bigger does not mean better." Emma dutifully repeated the words but cocked an eyebrow at him when he paused and looked at her with a devilish grin._

"_But that doesn't mean that sometimes it isn't preferable."_

_She should have seen that coming._

"_Ok, first things first – you need to learn how to hold your sword." Hook stepped up beside her to inspect her grip on the sword. _

"_I know how to hold a sword." It came out sounding a little haughtier than she intended, but she held the sword out warily, gripping the hilt with both hands. Even still, she spared him a glance, trying to gauge his reaction._

"_You must have originally been taught with a long sword…" It was a quiet observation said more to himself than to her. "Yeah, that's not going to work with this baby. She's a little more delicate, doesn't like to be manhandled so much. Much like you, love." An eye roll was her only response._

"_One hand." He pushed her left arm away. "Now don't wrap your thumb so far down the hilt, move it up a little – right there. That will allow for better movement." The sword felt awkward and unsteady in her one hand after the two-handed hold she was used to. _

"_Swan, it's not going to bite you. Relax."_

_She tried and, from the amused look on his face, obviously failed. Hook took several steps back. "Alright then – stance."_

_Emma automatically obeyed the command; it reminded her strongly of her father when he was first teaching her. She slid her left foot back until her feet were a little wider than her hips, bent her knees slightly, and held the sword out in front of her. Hook looked pleased._

"_Good – very good, actually. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"_

"_Why don't you attack me and find out?" What the hell… where had that come from? She heard him chuckle then saw him move in her peripheral vision; he casually swaggered over to where he could face her directly, drawing his sword slowly. Emma's eyes fell on his blade._

"_Hey, why do you get to use a big sword?"_

"_It's a cutlass, love; not a long sword by any means. And I get a bigger sword because I wouldn't be caught dead with that scrawny little piece of steel." His laugh cut off her outraged retort. "I'm only joking, love. In all honesty, it's because I'm a man who likes bigger things." He spun his sword dramatically, showing off. "Do you like big things, Miss Swan?"_

_Her mouth dropped open at the blatant suggestion._

"_Gah… nevermind!"_

Hook was an excellent instructor. Apparently, the numerous battles and skirmishes that came with not only rising to captaincy of a ship but also maintaining said status had given him well-honed skills. He was dangerously meticulous and deadly accurate. And he pushed her. Emma would be exhausted during their practice duels but he would always demand more, like he knew she was capable of more than even she believed of herself. He unnerved her in more ways than one and she often thought how she would hate to have to cross swords with him in a real duel.

"_You're too distracted, Swan." The steel clashed and Hook's cutlass formed an X with her short sword. With a grim smile, he stepped forward, narrowing the space between their bodies and leaving her no room to pull her blade free. Emma grit her teeth in frustration; she was trying, damn it, but she knew her form was embarrassingly sloppy today. "You have to keep your eyes on the prize."_

_Before she could realize his intention, she felt something slip around her calf. He grinned wickedly at her surprised expression before pulling up. She struggled in vain to balance before falling to the ground, landing on her back; apparently, he had snagged her right leg with his hook to destabilize her. In an effort to gain some space so she could stand, Emma swung her sword over her body. Instead of forcing him back, though, he simply caught her blade as it swung by and pulled it towards his hook, effectively trapping the steel. With one of his characteristic smirks, he slowly began to slide down the length of her sword; the innuendo was clear. _

"_Normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back." He was crouched over her, swords pressed to the side. "But this is a pleasantly stimulating alternative for now."_

_Well, if she wasn't distracted before…_

"_A bit of advice, though – when I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it."_

_Oh, god._

"_Ready to give up, love?"_

Despite her initial contempt towards the smaller blade, Emma had grown to enjoy wielding the short sword much more than the long sword her father had tried to teach her with as a child. Its shorter blade meant less strain on her arms and shoulders as she fought, giving her greater stamina, and its lighter weight meant she could move faster, could move it faster. Under Hook's instruction, she learned of ways to take advantage of both her shorter stature and the shorter blade. Where she once thought that a longer sword would be a distinct advantage, now she wasn't quite so sure.

_Hook had obtained a long sword from god knows where; she knew it didn't belong to him or any of his crew. It was extended out, sharp point aimed at her chest._

"_Odds are, any opponent you're up against will be bigger than you – and most likely have a larger sword."_

"_Well isn't that comforting…"_

_He silenced her with a look. "But while they attempt to intimidate you with size and slice you in half with clumsy strokes, you'll be able to sneak in and catch them by surprise."_

"_And how, exactly, am I supposed to sneak in?"_

"_You're small – well, relatively small – and you're smart. All you have to do is find an opening and squeeze in to make your move. Let's practice, shall we?"_

_Without warning, the long sword whipped through the air, slicing at her body; Emma leaped back to prevent the sword from cutting a nice long gash in her stomach._

"_Bloody hell, Hook! A little warning, maybe?" But he wasn't playing with her; he was teaching._

"_You think someone's going to let you know when they're about to attack?" He swung the sword up and over, forcing her to roll to the right as the sword crashed to the ground where she'd been standing moments before. "Ambushing someone for a quick kill is a whole hell of a lot easier than drawing it out in a fight." He pulled the sword to the side before swinging it across his body towards her once more._

_That's when she noticed it._

_He was slower – maybe not much slower, but slower nonetheless. Emma dodged again, circling a couple steps more to her right. He had been right; the long, heavy blade was weighing him down and making his movements considerably less sharp than she was used to. She leaped back as he dropped the sword down for her again and used the time, miniscule though it was, to look for an opening and make a plan. The sword whistled through the air and she ducked, letting the blade pass harmlessly over her head._

_There._

_With the long sword still in motion after Hook's forceful swing, Emma saw the opening. Taking a quick step forward and still in a crouch, she pressed the point of her short sword to his stomach. She stared down the length of her blade, shocked at how instinctively she'd reacted to the opening he'd given her. Adrenaline was pumping through her body and she couldn't hear much except for the rush of blood in her head._

"_Well done, love."_

_She glanced up at him. He looked pleased._

Not all of their time together was focused on swordplay, though. It was inevitable for them to have downtime to talk, something that Emma both enjoyed and dreaded. Getting to know Hook was dangerous; she could feel herself naturally gravitate towards him, but it was extremely hard to wrap her mind around the concept of trusting him. And the more time they spent together and got to know each other, the more difficult it became.

They'd had their fair share of getting-to-know-each-other moments over their time together, but there were always things held back. They had a sort of unspoken agreement not to pry if information was not willingly supplied. He'd explained to her much about his young life and his early time aboard his ship but had deliberately left a large gap in the recent years. Emma was the exact opposite; she'd willingly explained much of her life from twelve years old and on but had obviously steered clear of her life pre-Tortuga.

Every once in a while, though, there were moments that gave her a deeper glimpse into the man that was Captain Hook.

_The clouds drifted lazily overhead, the sun was warm, and the slight breeze off the ocean had kept the day from growing too warm. Emma felt delightfully relaxed after the afternoon they'd spent sparring. She was lying on her back near the cliff's edge listening to the sound of the surf crashing on the rocks below while Hook sat a couple feet to her left, leaning against a boulder, with his eyes closed. Any normal person would assume him to be asleep but she knew better; Hook wasn't the type of person to let his guard down too readily around others._

_They were kindred spirits in that respect._

_Almost of their own accord, Emma's eyes drifted to his calm form. Pirate or not, he really was one of, if not the most, handsome man she'd ever met. Ruby frequently seconded that opinion, often following up with what was apparently one of her new favorite questions for Emma – why hadn't she slept with him yet? Emma's constant reply that she just wasn't interested was always rebuffed with a loud exclamation of 'bullshit!' In truth, she knew why she resisted Hook; she just wasn't willing to admit it yet. He, of course, made no attempt to hide his interest, but at the same time, never pushed farther than she was willing to humor him. It was a delicate balance._

_She continued to stare at him and her eyes were drawn to the splash of color on his forearm. It was a tattoo – the name Milah within a heart pierced by a dagger. She'd noticed it soon after meeting him, but when it never came up in their conversations, she'd figured it was one of the things he was unwilling to discuss._

"_Penny for your thoughts?"_

_The sudden break in the silence brought Emma back to reality with a start; she raised her eyes quickly, expecting to be caught looking at him but his eyes were still closed. She got the distinct feeling, though, that he knew she'd been staring. Brushing an errant strand of hair from her face, she returned her gaze to the clouds._

"_Not really thinking too much about anything…"_

"_I've come to know you pretty well, love, and you've been too quiet; there must be something on your mind."_

_He could read her so well. She shouldn't say it, though. Told herself not to ask. She just knew that the words would shift the comfortable dynamic they'd created for themselves, but the words came out unbidden._

"_Who's Milah?"_

_He was quiet for a moment and Emma thought he might just ignore her question altogether. "Someone I knew long ago." His voice came out as a soft whisper._

"_What happened to her?" Emma knew that she was straying into dangerous territory, that this conversation had moved far outside of their norm. Feeling slightly panicked, she tried to backtrack. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I understand."_

"_She died."_

_The undercurrent in Hook's voice made her heart feel like it would break, the heaviness of those two simple words like a weight on her chest. "I'm sorry… you must have cared for her very much." Hook opened his eyes then but didn't meet hers; he just stared out at the ocean._

"_I loved her."_

_There was so much more beneath his enigmatic personality than she had ever thought possible._

"_And what of your secrets, love?"_

_Emma knew what he was wanting. She had broken their understood agreement – she'd asked him something incredibly personal and now the scales were tipped in her favor. He wanted her to tell him something of equal weight and importance._

"_I ran away from home when I was twelve. That's how I ended up in Tortuga."_

"_Why?"_

"_I couldn't stay with my family. They had my entire life planned out for me… I couldn't accept that I wasn't in control of my own future."_

"_I can respect that." He paused. "You weren't afraid?"_

_Emma smiled grimly. "I was terrified." She remembered how scared she'd been those first few years, how she would experience crippling moments of panic or wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by a sweat-inducing fear. "But every time I thought about going back, I remembered a story I'd read when I was young about a girl that wanted to be a mermaid. People would ask her why she would want such a thing and she would tell them it was because she had no fear of the depths but a great fear of shallow living." She paused, remembering how helpless she'd felt growing up, and the next part came out in a low, pained voice. "You don't need water to feel like you're drowning."_

_Their two confessions were intimate and Emma could feel their relationship changing in the long silence that filled the space between them. After several moments, Emma felt the brush of fingers through her hair; Hook had moved from his place against the boulder to sit closer to her without her even noticing. She stared up at him as he slid his fingers slowly through her hair over and over. Never breaking eye contact, she reached out to touch her hand lightly to his bent leg. They stayed that way for quite some time, neither of them breaching the silence._

Emma glanced towards one wall of the trees, just able to make out the glittering ocean over the cliff's edge. If Hook's routine remained as it had in the past, he should have sailed in to Tortuga almost a month ago. It had become a predictable pattern; every three weeks or so he would come to Tortuga for a few days, instructing her in swordplay during the day and generally making a scene by harassing her in the bar at night. That's how it had been for almost a year and a half. Emma paused and counted the months off in her head, shocked at how the time had flown. She'd first met Hook when she was only a few days shy of turning twenty-seven; now she was twenty-eight and a half.

She'd changed a lot over that time. Her body had grown leaner from the swordplay, her muscles more developed. She was lighter on her feet and even Ruby had mentioned that she had a different sort of look about her now. Confident, the brunette had said – more dangerous.

Emma liked it.

She leaned against one of the tall oaks at the edge of the clearing; from this spot, she had an unobstructed view of the ocean. Her eyes gazed out over the water and she tried to convince herself that she was simply admiring the view and not searching the blue expanse for anything in particular.

_Hook had disarmed her, her blade now lying several feet from where they stood. She smiled at him and held her hands up in a show of surrender, watching as he relaxed his stance with a smug grin at what he thought was her admission of defeat – perfect. With a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a yell, Emma leaped towards him. Unprepared for the unusual attack, Hook dropped his sword and made a grab for her, stumbling with her added weight before falling to the ground._

_Emma landed mostly on top of him, her body crossing his torso. Hook's arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled in an attempt to pin her down beneath him, but Emma just rolled with him. She forced him onto his back and straddled his hips to pin him down. Their arms flailed for a second, each trying to gain the upper hand, before she managed to grab both of his forearms and slam them to the ground above his head._

"_Gotcha!" Her exclamation was triumphant. But then he became very still and she noticed a severe look in his eyes; there was something behind the striking blue that was distinctly darker, hungering. Then she realized the position they were in. Hook was sprawled out on his back, legs slightly askew, with his arms pinned above his head; Emma was straddling him, leaning forward over his body to hold his arms, with her face inches from his._

_Oh._

_His body was deadly still, eyes trained on hers. She didn't know what to do, didn't know whether to maintain this standoff and keep the contact or release his arms, leaving him free to do… other things. His head lifted from the ground towards hers, his gaze locked on her lips._

"_Emma…"_

_Hook didn't use her first name very often, usually opting for his pet names instead, so the sound of him saying it – in a hoarse whisper, no less – combined with his movement made her jump. She released his arms and sat up quickly but made not move to get off. Hook's hooded eyes burned into hers as his right hand wandered down to rest against her hip while his hook curled around the outside of her right thigh._

_When had she started breathing so heavily?_

_And why couldn't she stop looking at him?_

_And why the hell was she still sitting on him?_

_Hook shifted his legs almost imperceptibly, the movement causing friction at the place their bodies were so intimately touching. This was so very wrong… but it felt so very right. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own – she never told it to move – and he pulled down on her hips to press her more firmly against him. She couldn't quite stop the breathy gasp at the contact, a searing heat burning through her body._

"_Gods, Emma."_

_Hook all but growled it out, pulling himself into a seated position, his hand coming up to grasp around the back of her neck, drawing her face towards his. Panicked, Emma jerked her head back at the last second – how had everything escalated so god damned fast? Hook didn't release her but he stopped, his eyes flashing to hers. She wanted this – god, she wanted him to kiss her – but she couldn't do this. All the time they spent together was already doing a number on her resolve; she knew kissing him would send her over the edge and she couldn't risk that happening. Not with a pirate. Not with Hook._

_He must have been able to see the alarm she was experiencing because he relaxed. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned forward to whisper to her. The breath that ghosted across her ear made a shiver skitter up her back._

"_You owe me a kiss, love." Damn, she'd almost forgotten about that. "What if I want it now?"_

_Emma swallowed hard. _

"_Do you?"_

_He dropped his hand to let his fingers run softly over the exposed skin on her upper arm; his hooked hand was curled around her back, keeping her straddling his lap. She felt hyper- sensitized to his touch. After a moment, he pulled back to catch her eyes._

"_No." A teasing look flashed across his face. "Not yet."_

That particularly interesting skirmish had been their last before he left almost two months ago.

Two months…

It was the longest he'd ever gone without coming to visit her. Visit Tortuga, her mind automatically corrected. Emma tried not to worry, tried not to let his continued absence bother her, but it wasn't easy, despite Ruby's continual attempts at distracting her.

The clearing was getting dark. Emma glanced up to the sky in surprise to realize that the late afternoon had shifted into twilight without her noticing and that she would be late for work if she didn't high-tail it back to the inn. In her hurry through town, she nearly ran into two women.

"Emma, you're in an awful big rush. Late for work?" The two women were dressed in garish outfits that only belonged in the brothels on the edge of town.

"I'm so sorry – yes, I didn't even realize how late it was."

"Did you see the ship in the harbor? Everyone's been talking about it." The second woman spoke now and Emma felt annoyed; she'd just said she was running late for work…

"Can't say I have. I'm sorry but I really need to…"

"What about the captain?" The lady ignored Emma and fanned herself dramatically. "I don't know if I've ever met someone so captivating and handsome; I do hope he visits our brothel while he's in town. If you see him, be sure to send him our way!"

Emma had a sneaking suspicion she knew who they were talking about but didn't want to get her hopes up in the event she was wrong. If it wasn't him, oh well; if it was… well, she was sure she'd see him that evening at the bar. Bidding the two women farewell, she continued towards the inn; at her rate, she would get there just in time for them to open. Ruby would most likely give her a hard time, having been responsible for setting everything up ahead of time, but Emma would find some way to make it up to her. Lost in thought, Emma didn't even notice the cloaked man creep from the shadows of the nearby alley and come up behind her.

At least, not until she felt the searing pain of a knife being jabbed to the hilt in her side.

She'd never felt pain like that. It was red-hot and white-cold all at the same time and she was sure that no lesson could've properly prepared her for that kind of hurt.

Emma gasped, swiftly turning around to face her attacker. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hood, but she could see the faint light reflecting on his teeth that were bared in a deadly smile. There was no time for confusion or hesitation. Without thinking, Emma drew her short sword and engaged her foe. No longer was she fighting an imaginary opponent or an instructive Hook – this was a very real threat that had already inflicted a very real injury – and a rush of adrenaline gave her strength to focus through the pain.

The man attempted to fight back, but she knocked the dagger from his hand. Not even pausing to think, she advanced. Emma knew she would never forget the feeling of that moment as long as she lived, couldn't even if she tried. She could feel the blade slide through his skin, felt it cleave through his organs and sever his spine on the other side. It was disturbing but also satisfying. This man had attacked her – he'd _hurt_ her – and she felt triumphant as her sword slid from his stomach and he collapsed to the ground.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Emma held the edge of her sword to his neck, trying to ignore the wetness she could feel soaking her top and running down her side.

"I'm just a messenger." He laughed but it was a thick gurgling sound due to the blood in his throat. Her blow had been a fatal one. "You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."

Emma felt her blood run cold.

Die?

Princess?

Someone wanted her dead, someone that knew who she was… but how? Why?

"Who sent you?" He stared at her grimly, silent. She shook him roughly, the pain causing him to make a strangled sound. "I said who sent you?"

"You have to die. You have to die so she can live."

"Tell me who!"

But her attacker died before he could answer, his eyes glazing over with death; Emma released her grip on his cloak, letting his body fall to the ground. She staggered to her feet, returning her trusty sword to its sheath. What the _hell_ was going on? Who would want her dead? And how had someone found her after all these years? With a deep breath, she looked at her wound. The knife had been small, but it had done its work well; the man had jabbed it into the soft part of her side directly beneath her ribs. She could see the ragged edges and watched the blood from the wound soak into her blouse, which now stuck to her skin. She would live, but she still needed help.

"_You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."_

Her stomach twisted anxiously. She should go to the inn, get Ruby and August to help, but then she found herself stumbling down the road towards the docks. The ladies had mentioned a captivating and handsome pirate captain… if he was there… if Hook was in town. She had no idea what he could do for her that Ruby or August couldn't, but she still found herself walking unsteadily in his direction.

It was there. His ship was there.

Her legs weren't cooperating in the least anymore; they seemed to wriggle like jello beneath her, like they couldn't support her weight. Blood dripped from between the fingers of the hand she had clamped against her wound as she stumbled down the dock and onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. A group of men on board jumped to their feet at her sudden arrival.

"I need to see Hook – the Captain – immediately." Emma wasn't sure how much longer she could stand here. Her fingers were beginning to tingle and go numb, the cold sensation slowly working its way through her hands to travel up her arms. She no longer felt so confident she'd live and had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the dagger than met the eye. If only she'd thought to grab it before she'd left…

A hulking crewmember leered at her. "Lass, if it's company you desire, we'll be more than happy to help." Over Hook's many trips to the bar to visit her, Emma had gotten the chance to meet most of his crew; however, the ability to go into towns when they made port was a privilege only granted to the more senior members of the crew. The others always had to remain and guard the ship. Therefore, Emma had not had the opportunity to meet these men that were in front of her now.

"Please, I need to speak with him now!"

Another man came to stand by the first one. "Anything that needs to be said to the cap'n goes through us first."

Angry, scared, and in pain, Emma drew her short sword and brandished it at the men in front of her. Immediately, several of them drew blades of their own.

"I don't have time for this!" She was yelling now. "Where is Hook?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Emma's eyes shot towards the familiar voice. The group of men jumped and separated to reveal their captain, angry from all the commotion. He stalked forward, glaring at his men before noticing her.

"Swan?"

"Hook…" The relief hit her at once and it felt like all her muscles stopped working. Her sword clattered to the deck and the hand that had been pressed to her wound fell to her side.

"What are you doing here?"

Her vision was starting to dim, the darkness at the edges of her sight creeping in.

"Captain, she's bleeding!"

Her body was almost completely numb; she couldn't even feel the sharp pain of the wound anymore.

"What the hell – Swan, what's going on? What happened?"

She dropped to the deck as her legs collapsed.

"Talk to me, love."

Hook's arm was around her shoulders and his hand was warm against her face but she couldn't speak.

"Emma…"

Then it was dark.

* * *

**So how about last week's episode? I'm not even ashamed to admit that I squealed like a little girl and that I've been wearing out the rewind button on my DVR watching it over and over.**

**As for this chapter – I've never wielded a sword a day in my life, but I like to consider myself well versed in the theory of sword fighting from watching so many movies. Yeah, that's a joke. Still, I hope I did it justice.**

**Thanks to everyone again for reading and commenting/favoriting/following! Have a good weekend!**


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**An Undertaking and A Choice**

"_I go to seek a great perhaps."_

* * *

Emma had never felt like such an idiot. She was standing on a raised platform in front of a tri-fold mirror dressed to the nines in an elaborate dress that she could barely breathe in. The seamstress scurried in circles around Emma, poking and prodding and pinning while her mother smiled on in the background.

The dress was beautiful. Floor length with delicate straps and tasteful beading on the shimmering silk, it was a sage green creation that everyone said would look wonderful in contrast with her fair skin and blonde hair. And of course, they were all correct. She was to wear this dress tomorrow evening.

Not only was tomorrow the night of the biggest, most extravagant ball the kingdoms had seen in quite some time, it was also her twelfth birthday. Her parents had planned the ball to celebrate her coming of age, so to speak; it was to be an introduction of her to the world. A whole evening dedicated solely to celebrating her.

Emma felt awkward already.

"Sweetheart, don't frown. It'll give you wrinkles."

She couldn't help the groan that escaped her. "Mom, why do I have to do this, again?"

"Because as of tomorrow you are officially a young lady and there's no better way to celebrate than with a ball. Oh, Emma, you're going to have the best time. You'll look like an absolute angel in that dress, every eye in the room will be on you. And there will plenty of handsome young princes to dance with."

Emma was less than thrilled. If there were anything worse than having to be paraded around in front of everyone in the kingdom, it would be her having to dance with all the princes in the realm in front of everyone in the kingdom. The uncomfortable embraces, the inevitable stepping on toes, the sweaty handgrips. Yes, true love in the making.

"Excuse me, milady." The seamstress' soft words drew her mother's gaze. "If you are satisfied with the gown…"

"Oh yes, Grace. Let's go ahead and get Emma out of it so you can work your magic." With the help of the two older women, Emma was able to shimmy her way out of the dress. "The dress truly is exquisite. I couldn't have dreamed up a more perfect and lovely piece."

The palace seamstress blushed under the praise. "Thank you, your majesty."

The rest of the day and most of the next passed in a blur of colors, music, fabrics, and instructions. Her mother busied herself with overseeing all of the last minute details of the ball, answering questions regarding things that Emma didn't even realize where even an issue. Lilies versus tulips; tapered candles versus votive candles; organza table coverings versus lace. All of the inquiries seemed so inconsequential. Did anyone truly care whether the tables were decorated with one larger centerpiece or balanced out with two smaller ones?

In the few moments that she wasn't preoccupied, Emma's mother shadowed her every move, following her from place to place and reminding her of simple things when they came to mind.

"Don't forget to curtsey when you're introduced to someone – remember to keep your eyes over his shoulder when he dances with you; don't look down at your feet – be sure to greet everyone in attendance; it would be simply horrible to forget someone and then they think us rude."

Before she knew it, she was being told to dress for the ball. Her mother deposited Emma in her room before departing for her own to get ready. The platform and tri-fold mirror had been moved into one of the corners and Grace stood meekly beside it, waiting to assist her.

Grace was a sweet girl, someone that Emma always wished she'd had more of a chance to get to know. She was dainty with light brown hair, a smattering of freckles, expressive eyes, and plump lips. She wasn't too much older than Emma, but the difference in their social standings prevented them from associating more than when the seamstress' services were needed. Grace was the daughter of one of the royal archers, Jefferson, and while his was an honorable profession, it was nowhere near a royal family.

"Are you ready, Princess?"

With a quiet sigh, Emma dropped her casual, everyday dress and stepped onto the platform. Grace pulled the elegant gown from its hanger and held it out for Emma to step into. With a hand on the girl's shoulder so as not to fall, Emma stepped into the dress and pulled the straps over her shoulder. As Grace moved behind her and began to lace up the back of the gown, Emma touched her fingers lightly to the delicate beading that adorned the front. Her mother was right; the dress really was exquisite. Then again, Grace never produced anything less than outstanding work.

"Princess, you look absolutely breathtaking."

She'd never been one to indulge and take pleasure from staring at herself in mirrors, but she couldn't help but admit that she looked pretty. Her hair had been styled in a simple chignon, the sweetheart neckline of the dress was perfect for showcasing the simple pendant that hung around her neck, and a coordinating bracelet decorated her wrist.

Emma felt the sudden very girly urge to twirl in a circle but resisted, opting to twist a few times so she could watch the dress flow back and forth instead.

"Oh, Emma!" She turned quickly at the sound of her mother's exclamation. She stood in the doorway in a deep purple one-shouldered gown and Emma was sure that she'd never seen her look more beautiful in her life. Her father hadn't stood a chance – one look at her and anyone would be a goner. Her mother came forward and embraced her lightly and Emma could tell how happy she was in that moment.

"Here's a little something just for you." She moved to stand behind her, their eyes connecting in the mirror. She was holding a delicate silver hairpin encrusted with small diamonds. "My mother gave me this when I attended my first real ball and now I want you to have it." Her mother tucked the pin gently into the side of Emma's chignon, smoothing down a few errant hairs.

Emma's father came to collect them, and before she knew it, they were in the ballroom and her mother was ushering her around, introducing her to a flurry of guests. There were so many people; faces blended together, their names forgotten as soon as she heard them.

"Emma, darling, this is Prince Phillip." This was the fourth prince she'd been introduced to so far this evening. He was handsome enough, but he had a nervous smile and slightly watery eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Phillip." Seeing her mother still watching her, Emma gave Phillip a tiny curtsey.

"The pleasure's all mine, Princess." He bowed and snagged her fingertips, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. A perfect little gentleman – his parents must have taught him well.

The evening dragged on and Emma wondered if her parents had managed to find a way to slow time for the evening. The only way to keep her sanity was to sneak out to the veranda every once in a while. With so many people talking and dancing, the ballroom felt stuffy, so the cooler outside air was a refreshing. She took a deep breath, leaning against the railing, and looked out over the gardens; her reprieve, however, was short lived.

"There you are!" Busted. "Come on inside, people can't meet you if you're hiding out here." Her mother dragged her back to the stuffy heat of the ballroom. "Oh, there's Prince Phillip – why don't you go dance with him, sweetheart."

"Can't I just visit with Cinderella? I haven't seen her in ages." She was immensely tired of dancing. Also, she believed her feet were completely ruined from Prince Adam stepping on them so much in an earlier waltz. It would be far more relaxing to sit and talk with one of the few friends she had that were in attendance.

"No, it's time for a dance. Go on."

"How about Prince Eric? Or Naveen?"

"No, I think Phillip will do just nicely. Now go." Her mother gave her a slight push towards the dance floor.

"Why do I have to dance with him again?" Emma had already danced with him three times, which was far more than any of the other princes. "There are plenty of other guests."

"Emma, you will stop this and go accept a dance with him this instance."

"But why?"

"Because he is your betrothed!"

All of the lights seemed glaringly bright and it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Betrothed? She couldn't breathe, just stared in horror at her mother. Emma finally understood why her mother had been insisting on so many dances with the young prince.

"But… but I don't want to marry him. I don't want to marry anyone!"

"Emma, you're only twelve; it's not like you'll be getting married tomorrow. The marriage isn't planned until your eighteenth birthday." Emma couldn't find the words to speak; her brain and her mouth refused to connect. "And you can't say you don't want to marry him, you barely know the boy. He is a wonderful young man whose parents are very excited at the prospect of your engagement. You'll be spending plenty of time together in the years to come and I'm sure the more you get to know him, the more you'll like him."

But Emma didn't want to get to know him. How could she grow to like – to love – someone knowing that the whole situation was forced, that it was the product of someone else's plans?

"After all your stories about how much you and Dad went through to be together, you would force me to marry someone I didn't love?"

"Love can take some time to develop, sweetheart."

"Yes, and it can also happen in an instant – or at least that's what you've told me."

Her mother refused to respond to the statement, just stared her down with a stern look. Emma felt the betrayal well up inside her and manifest itself in the form of anger.

"I can't take this! You plan everything for me; my whole future is like one big, strategic chess match and I don't even get a say in it. I don't want to grow up and be a queen, I don't want to run a kingdom, I don't want to marry Phillip or Eric or anyone else here, and I don't want to be your perfect little princess!"

The slap stung.

Emma brought her hand to her cheek, sure that it was flushed from both the slap and her prior anger. Her mother's face was twisted in a shocked expression; she'd never laid a hand on Emma in her life. The slap hadn't been hard, not even enough to turn Emma's head, but it was the emotion behind it that truly stung.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know… I can't believe…" Her mother took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I know that you don't agree with many of the things your father and I have planned for you, but we know what's best. You'll thank us one day."

But Emma knew she wouldn't.

Her mother reached forward to pull her into an embrace, but Emma pulled away from her outstretched arms. Shaking her head and fighting the tears she could feel burning in her eyes, she ran down the hallway to her bedroom. Slamming the door, she threw herself onto the bed. She hated crying, hated the way it made her feel, but she couldn't stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Her mother's rise to the throne had been one full of adventure and romance. Snow had been constantly on the run from the Evil Queen, always trying to stay one step ahead, and had met Charming by chance in an attempted robbery that turned into one of the greatest tales of true love in the whole realm. That spontaneous, never planned, one-day-to-the-next kind of life was something Emma wanted to experience. The feeling of never knowing what's going to happen next, of being able to fall in love with someone you'd never expect.

But everything was out of her control here in the castle. Her parents wouldn't listen, didn't care about her hopes and dreams. They'd been living in times of relative peace for so long that the thrill for adventure had long left their hearts, which also prevented them from seeing that yearning that burned in Emma's. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she spied her travel bag stuffed in the corner against her dresser.

_Run away…_

The words floated around the room as if the walls themselves whispered them to her, as if they knew of the sorrow and discontent she felt nearly every day within its confines. The stars above her head twinkled, calling to her to see them with her own eyes instead of through an enchanted ceiling.

Could she really do it?

_Would_ she do it?

Thus far, her life had consisted of people making her decisions for her; the biggest choice she'd ever had to make was which pony she would like to take for herself from the city's breeder. This was so much bigger than that.

But if she were caught… if her parents ended up finding her…

No, she wouldn't get caught. She'd had a plan for years of how to get away and an idea of where she could go.

_Run away…_

The words lit a fire deep in her chest and she jumped from the bed, moving with purpose. She ripped the dress off and pulled her hair free from its updo, the diamond hairpin falling to the floor. She started to reach for it but then turned to the closet and dressed in her most comfortable pair of trousers and shirt instead. She'd have no need for elegant hairpins where she was going.

Grabbing her bag, she began to stuff it full of outfits that would be helpful on her journey and with a sharp movement, broke her piggy bank and stuffed the money she'd saved over the past few years into the bag. Moving hurriedly, she grabbed her bow and arrows from the corner and a piece of parchment before padding quietly down the hall to her parents' bedroom. There, she told them goodbye.

_Dearest Mother and Father,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I'm sorry because I know how much this will hurt all of us, but it is something I need to do._

_I remember the stories you both would tell me before I went to sleep at night – tales full of adventure and romance. I fell in love with those stories and have spent my entire life wishing for one of my own. I can't bear the thought of never getting the opportunity. I need to be free to live my own life; free to make my own mistakes and experience my own victories; free to fall in love with whomever I choose._

_I would ask you not to look for me, but I know that you will. You will not find me, but please know that I will be safe. You both raised me with the knowledge of how to take care of myself and now I go to put it to use._

_I love you both so much and I hope you can find a way to forgive me someday. Know that wherever I am, I will always think of you both. Mother – look up at the stars and know that, wherever I may be, I do the same and think of you. Father – shoot your bow and know that I carry mine with me, a piece of you always by my side to protect me._

_Love always and forever,_

_Emma_

Tears stung in her eyes. This was so hard, but her words in the letter were true – if she stayed here she would surely drown. She would wither away until there was nothing left of her except the bitter shell of a woman that used to be full of hopes and dreams. Emma folded and sealed the letter, pressing a kiss to the note before laying it on her parents' chaise lounge. They would not find it until the following morning, by which time she would be long gone.

Emma grabbed her small pack and left the castle. Most everyone in the palace was attending the party and those who weren't were so relaxed and at ease that it was easy for her to slip out. She made her way to the docks; the plan was to barter her way onto a trading ship and then go as far as they could take her. Her heart felt heavy with sadness but she didn't pause to give a last look at the palace she'd grown up in, was born and raised in.

She never looked back.

* * *

When Emma came to, the first thing she thought was that she was never drinking again. Ever. This was by far the worst hangover that she'd ever experienced. Then she remembered that she hadn't had anything to drink the night before.

And that she'd been stabbed.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly that the blood rush to her head caused her vision to go black for a few seconds. When it cleared, she looked at her surroundings. She was in a bed in some type of cabin; there was an armoire, a large wooden desk strewn with maps at the other end of the room, shelves filled with books, a small sofa, and floor to ceiling windows along the opposite wall that showed a clear blue sky. Looking down at her body, Emma noticed that she was still wearing the same grungy clothes from the day before, the side of her shirt stiff with the dried blood. Curious, she lifted up her blouse to inspect the wound and found that it had been bandaged.

Where the hell was she? She closed her eyes, trying to place the events of the prior night in order but couldn't focus beyond the slight panic she felt at not knowing what was going on in the here and now. With a frustrated groan, she flopped back down onto the bed.

"Most women don't make such unpleasant noises while in my bed."

Emma hadn't even heard the door open, but there he stood. Hook.

"Your bed?"

"Aye."

Breathe, Emma… long, deep breaths. She glanced again to the sunlight streaming through the windows; it had been night when she arrived here.

"How long was I out?"

"About fourteen hours now." He moved to lean against the desk. "I didn't want to wake you."

After sleeping for fourteen hours, her head shouldn't be pounding the way it was anymore. But then again, she hadn't just been sleeping. She could distinctly remember passing out from the strange effects of the knife. Not exactly a formula for a restful night's sleep, no matter how comfortable Hook's bed might be. Speaking of beds…

"So if I'm in your bed, then I guess I'm on…"

"The Jolly Roger." He finished the hesitant sentence for her with a smile that quickly faded. When she'd felt movement earlier, she'd just attributed it to her headache. Now that she was aware of where she was, she noticed the slight swaying motion again and recognized it for what it was – a telltale sign of being on the water. "How are you feeling?"

"Aside from a headache, surprisingly well." The prior evening all blurred together in her mind, a dizzying rush of color. "Can you fill me in as to how I came to be in your bed?"

He chuckled, probably thinking along the same lines as her – that her being in his bed was the least important issue at hand. "How about you fill me in as to how you came to be aboard my ship covered in blood?"

How exactly _had_ that happened? Focus… she sat up in the bed again, resting her back against the wall behind her. Hook pulled the chair from behind the desk, dragging it across the room to sit beside her.

"I was in the clearing; I'd been practicing yesterday afternoon." She left out that she'd also been thinking about him – a lot. "I realized that it was getting late and I needed to get to work, so I grabbed my stuff and was almost to the inn when this man came up behind me. I have no idea where he came from or who he was; he was wearing a black cloak, though, so he obviously didn't want to be seen. I wasn't even paying attention when I felt him stab me."

Emma had been staring down at her hands clasped in her lap. When she ventured a look at him, she was surprised by the outright fury she could see in the tense clenching of his jaw, the stormy expression in his eyes. He refused to look at her, though.

"Lay down, I need to change your bandages." She did as she was told and he reached forward to push her blouse up to her ribcage, exposing the wound. Using his hook, he sliced through the current wrappings, casually throwing them to the floor. Emma glanced down at the injury; it was a small hole, but there was an unsettling black color that spread out from the wound with her veins.

"Did he escape after stabbing you?"

She looked away from the wound and back to Hook. He had pulled a new set of wraps from somewhere and was slowly unrolling it. When he reached forward to start bandaging, his hand brushed against the bare skin of her stomach, causing it to twitch faintly in response. Under different circumstances, the position they were in – her shirt hiked up and him gently touching her bare skin – might have led to a very different outcome.

"No, I killed him… I stabbed him." His eyes shot to hers for a second before returning to the work at hand. He'd slid his hook under her, the flat part of the appendage pressing into her and forcing her to arch her back; with his other hand, he began to loop the wrappings tightly around her body. He was surprisingly adept at the task for having only one hand.

"I remember how _angry _I felt." She recalled the flash of rage she'd experienced as the knife had slid into her body. "I was mad at him for hurting me and mad at myself that I hadn't been paying enough attention to stop him sooner. I didn't even think; I just responded."

"That's what you're supposed to do, love. What I've been trying to teach you." He was staring at her with an unreadable expression, but if she had to guess it was a mixture of pride and concern. "Could it have been a random attack?"

"_You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."_

"No."

"And what makes you so sure?"

Emma hesitated. To tell him any part of what made her sure that she'd been intentionally targeted would be to tell him about her past. Could she do that? Could she trust him with the truth of her heritage? Only Ruby knew of her past and, even then, she'd only told her because it had been necessary; that situation hadn't exactly been planned. No, she couldn't tell him… not yet.

"I just know."

He gave her a sharp look but didn't press her. "You said you were close to the inn… what made you come all the way to the docks?" He wanted to know why she'd dragged herself halfway across town when her friends were much closer.

"Some women were talking, they said that there was a handsome pirate captain in town and I had a feeling it was you they were talking about." His anger was quickly replaced by one of his trademark smirks. "Oh no, don't even look at me like that – those were their words not mine so don't go getting any ideas." She had to give him credit as he at least attempted to stifle the grin.

"Still doesn't explain why you came to me instead of your friends, love."

Emma frowned. She couldn't explain that because she'd wondered the same thing at the time.

"I honestly don't know why. I tried to tell myself to go to the inn, but I just kept walking towards the docks. It was like my brain was disconnected from my body or something."

"Hmm…" It was a noncommittal sound that Emma couldn't read. "Here, tie this." He'd finished changing her bandages and now gave her the end of the wrapping to tie off. Once finished, she sat up and smoothed her shirt back down, sparing a glance once more for her dirty clothes. She needed a shower and a change of clothes desperately – she felt disgusting – but all her clothes were back at the inn… the inn!

"Oh my god, Ruby's probably freaking out… and August too. I have to go; I need to let them know everything's ok." Emma threw the covers off her legs and stood up, but the room swayed and her legs felt like they'd collapse as they had the night before. Hook put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Damn legs… I can't even walk properly."

"Yes, well, most ladies do go weak at the knees after spending a night in my bed."

"Oh please…" She brushed his hand away and tried to blow him off. "I have to go talk to them. They're probably worried sick."

"That's going to be a little difficult, love."

She didn't like the look on his face. "And why's that?"

"We've left Tortuga."

"We… left? As in we're not in the port anymore?"

He shook his head at her confused questions. "We left last night after you fainted."

"Damn it, Hook! You know that's considered kidnapping, right? You can't just take people without their permission. Do you have any idea how worried everyone will be about me? Ruby is going to _kill_ you."

"In case you don't remember, love, a man tried to kill you. Not just a random attack on a helpless lass – he was after _you_, tried to kill _you_. Obviously, someone in Tortuga wanted you dead bad enough to resort to desperate measures and I, for one, wasn't willing to sit around and wait for them to return and finish the job when they discovered you had survived." He took a deep breath. They'd had somber conversations in the past, but Emma had never heard him speak so intensely to her before, with such obvious emotion. "I sent a note to your friend before we left explaining what little I knew of what happened."

Emma was relieved that at least Ruby would have some knowledge of what happened instead of thinking that she'd just been abducted or killed. Something about what Hook said, though, pressed at the back of Emma's mind, bothering her. Why was stabbing her considered desperate measures? That seemed a fairly routine way of assassinating someone. Unless…

"Why did the wound look the way it did, with the dark lines coming from it?" Emma could feel her stomach drop at the pained look on his face. "Hook?"

"It was cursed. The blade he used to stab you was filled with dark magic." The words were like a punch to her stomach and she had to put a hand against the cabin wall to steady herself. Dark magic was a terrible thing; she could remember her parents telling her about it as a child, about the horrible things it could do, the horrible ways it could corrupt a person's mind.

"What's going on, then? How am I alive?"

"By all intents and purposes you should be dead; the magic should have killed you within an hour. Thankfully, I had something on hand that stalled the curse. It didn't cure it by any means, just delayed the inevitable."

"So I'll still die?"

"If the wound goes untreated, yes." Outstanding.

"How long do I have?"

"A few days, a week at the very most." It was a staggering thought, to know you were only days from death. The expression on his face was unreadable and she exhaled heavily, the breath coming out shaky from the weight of the revelation.

"You need help, love – more help than I can give." Thoughts raced through Emma's mind. The Blue Fairy was the only person she could think of that might be able to cure her, but that would involve returning home. "I know of someone that _can_ help, though, but it would take quite a bit of effort to get to where she lives. And it would be dangerous – extremely dangerous."

"Well I'd prefer to live, given the choice." Apparently, finding out how close she was to death had given her a new sarcastic streak.

His lips twitched at her comment. "Yes, I'd prefer you live also." He paused. "She lives in Neverland."

As a child, Emma had heard numerous tales about the wonders of Neverland. It was a land where imagination ran wild, where adventures and dangers waited in mermaid-filled lagoons and Indian-inhabited plains, where one would never grow old. But that's all she'd believed they were – stories. Never in her life had she imagined they could possibly be real.

"A place that's only exists in bedtime stories."

"I assure you, it's very real. A whole colony of pixies resides in Neverland. Combined, their magic would be enough to heal the curse; the trick is convincing them to help. Lucky for you, they owe me a favor." His eyebrow rose suggestively. "I'm open to suggestions on a form of repayment, but if you need ideas I'd be more than happy to supply a few."

Emma cocked an eyebrow, remembering the terms of her last payment. She was already indebted to Hook for him saving her life thus far; to accept his offer now would make her debt nearly insurmountable. She'd owe him for years to come. But then again, she couldn't repay anything if she was dead.

She leaned against the cabin wall and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. How was this even possible? A mysterious man that knew her hidden identity – a cursed blade meant to end her life – a legendary land that held pixies powerful enough to cure dark magic – a pirate that had apparently been to Neverland before.

What were the odds?

Emma had a million questions but figured they could all wait until later. "It sounds ridiculous and unbelievable… but it also sounds like it's our only option."

"I must warn you, though, love." He turned to her then, cautiously snatching her gaze as if he really would prefer not to tell her. "I might not always be the charming pirate you're used to. Neverland does strange things to a person's mind."

Emma unconsciously licked her lips.

"How so?"

Did she really _want_ to know?

"It can make a man feel completely carefree. Makes him feel like he could take on the world or jump off the highest cliff and fly. Like he could reach up and take the stars down from the sky or outrun the wind or move a mountain with his bare hands."

He stepped towards her, their bodies only inches apart, forcing her to mold her back to the wall. He lifted his hand and ran it through her hair before curling it around the back of her neck, his thumb running across her jawbone. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers; his eyes were closed and his voice was low and husky as he whispered to her. "Makes him feel like he could spend a thousand lifetimes with a woman and never tire of her or want for anything more than the feeling of her skin against his… her lips on his body… her joined with him."

His words were like sin. Emma had closed her eyes at some point as he spoke – she didn't know when – and she found herself fighting to keep her breathing steady. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and there was a spreading warmth that was building in her stomach.

"But it can also make a man feel helpless. Part of Neverland's power is that it causes you to forget everything you know. To know that you're at the mercy of the magic in the land… it can make you angry, and anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark."

They were quiet and unmoving; she had no wish to break the spell his words had cast over them, but she forced the words out.

"I'll take my chances."

He laughed, if you could even call it that; it was a hoarse sound that most definitely did not stem from joy.

"I wouldn't have you see me dark like that, Emma."

"I trust you." Even if you don't always trust yourself, she added to herself.

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. They were a less startling blue than when she first met him; now they were more like the gray-blue of a storm on the ocean. His hand shifted, giving his thumb access to glide across her bottom lip, and his eyes dropped to track its progress.

"I think I'd like to collect on your prior debt now."

The kiss.

His words were soft, much softer than the impossibly loud sound of Emma's heart beating that she was sure he could hear in the silence that surrounded them following his statement.

"A deal's a deal."

His lips turned up in a small smile. "You're much more than just a simple deal, love."

Then he dipped his head and kissed her and it was everything she'd ever imagined it would be. His lips were firm, demanding, and she felt she would be burned with the heat of it. His mouth moved against hers, parting her lips. He was intoxicating. Their tongues intermingled, causing the scorching heat to travel through her entire body, and she distractedly thought that _this_ was a kiss.

Her hands slid up his arms of their own accord. They ghosted over his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck, her fingers sliding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck, caressing him. At her touch, he moaned and it vibrated through her mouth. He grabbed her chin and turned her head, creating a better angle, a deeper angle, to kiss her; at the same time, his hooked hand settled at her waist and he leaned into her, pressing her against the wall. His hips shifted against hers and the sudden increase in intensity left her breathless. Their kisses were hot and strong and wanting, and she could feel her long-standing resistance floating away like ashes on the wind, burnt and discarded.

If his words earlier were sin, what did that make his kisses? Because surely no man should be able to kiss as well as Hook did. The things he could do with his mouth caused her mind to spin, her stomach to flutter, and her knees to weaken.

Her hands ceased their caress, one grabbing a fistful of his hair, the other dropping to clutch at the front of his vest. He made another noise as his hand slid down her side and along to her back, pushing her forward and making her arch her body into him. He abandoned her lips, nipping at her earlobe before trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck. Emma's head fell back against the wall and gasped as he sucked at a sensitive spot near her collarbone. Fingers looped in his belt, she pulled his hips tightly against hers.

She couldn't get enough… couldn't feel enough.

That's why she was surprised when Hook was the one to pull away. He leaned against her, unwilling – or maybe unable – to move, his face buried in the crook of her neck; his breathing was heavy with what she assumed to be a combination of his desire and the effort it was taking for him to stop. With one last rough and jagged breath, he pulled back, pressing his lips to her forehead before stepping away and turning his back to her. His words were soft, only barely reaching her ears.

"You're sure?"

Oh yeah… Neverland. She'd almost forgotten what they had even been talking about. To be completely honest, it hadn't seemed important once he'd kissed her; especially since his kisses had easily been the most arousing and mind-blowing ones she'd ever experienced.

"Yes."

A soft sigh. He reached for her hand.

"Then let's go."

* * *

**Hook makes me swoon. Seriously. It's kind of sad.**

**I know that Snow seems a little harsh – I was as shocked as you because that slap came out of nowhere – but you have to understand where she's coming from. A mother's love is absolute and Snow is one protective momma. She knows things that Emma doesn't and has said before that she'll do anything to protect her – even if her actions will push her only daughter away. She has her reasons so try not to be too hard on her, mmk?**

**Thanks again for the great reviews – you all seriously make my day!**


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I also don't own Mr. Gibbs. He belongs with Pirates of the Caribbean over here in our world but has somehow managed to wander into this story.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**A New Home and A Remedy**

"_So come with me to a place where dreams are born and time is never planned."_

* * *

The merchant trading ship was nothing fancy, didn't even come close to the sophisticated vessels of the royal navy she'd been on in the past. Those trips with her parents had transpired on gleaming, flawless ships with uniformed officers that always carried out their duties with a respectful smile. It didn't take Emma long to realize that conditions like that didn't occur very often outside of the royal influence.

Gruff sailors, toughened by years of a life at sea, moved about the ship. The craft was quite a bit smaller than the royal navy vessels and since it was a trading ship, it was always packed to near overflowing with goods and merchandise. The ship and its accommodations were filthy, to say the least, but Emma found that it didn't really matter; material luxuries and refinements were now a thing of the past. She knew better than to believe that starting this new life would be anything but challenging.

She'd managed to barter her way onto the ship nearly a month ago.

"_Sir, please; I can pay you."_

_The captain of the ship – Emma could see the weather-worn words Alice May printed on the front – had turned her initial request to board his ship down, but predictably stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her at the mention of money. His hand rubbed his jaw as he took a couple steps toward her, surveying her curiously, before stopping and holding out his hand. Emma was already prepared. _

_She dropped a few pieces of gold into his waiting palm and his was relieved to see his eyes widen in response. That was a good sign. Dressed in her casual travelling trousers, shirt, and cloak, she clearly hadn't looked like a person that would be in possession of that kind of money. But then again, she'd been banking on people making that assumption; the less everyone else knew, the better._

"_Don't think you'll get a free ride just 'cause you got some gold, girl. If you wanna come, you're gonna have to work." The captain had recovered from his initial shock at the gold in his hand._

_Emma spared a glance for the ship. She'd never had to do a day's worth of hard labor in her life, the most work being when she practiced swordplay or horseback riding with her father. But she also knew that she needed to get out of the kingdom. She'd only been gone for one hour tops but time was of the essence._

"_I'll work as hard as anyone else." _

_The captain let out a bark of laughter and grinned at her and she was surprised to find that it wasn't the leering, unpleasant sort of smile she'd been expecting. Still laughing, he pulled a floppy hat from one of his many pockets and reached forward to push her hood back. Emma felt a moment of panic flood through her at the thought of being recognized when she was on the cusp of escaping, but if he recognized her, he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply placed the droopy hat on her head before clapping her on the shoulder._

"_Well then welcome aboard, sailor."_

Her time aboard the trading vessel had flown by. In the beginning, the activities had worn her out. She would stumble around completing her chores, body aching from the prior day's exertions, before collapsing into her bunk at night, exhausted. She adapted quickly, though. Day by day, her muscles ached less and she found she could do more work. It was never easy, by any means, but Emma felt a strange sort of satisfaction from the labor that she'd never felt before. She knew she couldn't stay on board forever, though. Eventually, she'd need to settle somewhere.

"_Trying to escape the law, lass?" Emma remained silent and stared at the captain. "There're a few places people who don't wanna be found can go, but if you're asking my personal opinion I'd have to say Tortuga."_

"_Can you take me there?"_

_He nodded. "Aye, but only if you finish swabbing those decks before sundown." Emma ran off to do her work with a smile, the captain's chuckle following behind her._

It had only been a couple days since that conversation and now here she was.

"You got a place to stay?" A brusque sailor had come to stand beside her at the head of the gangway. His name was Mr. Gibbs and, during her time on the ship, he'd somewhat taken her under his wing, despite his initial insistence of what bad luck it was to have a woman on board. After warming up to her, he'd taken it upon himself to show her the easiest ways to climb the riggings, how to tie the various knots they used, and how to navigate in the open sea.

"No." She stared out at what would was to become her new home. The royal palace versus a pirate town… could two places be more different? "I'll see if someone will give me shelter for the night. Then tomorrow I'll start looking for a permanent place and maybe some work." They were silent as Emma worked up the courage to step off the ship.

"Take care of yourself, girl."

"You too." Emma looked up at the bearded man with a small smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Gibbs."

She made her way down to the docks and stood there for a moment, watching the Alice May sail off with a small feeling of nostalgia. She'd only been on board for a short while, but she had grown to enjoy the raucous sailors' company; they had been her first real experience outside of her sheltered palace upbringing. But she didn't have long to stand there, because at that moment the skies opened up and released a severe downpour. With a squeal, she pulled her hood up over her head and ran into town.

It was beyond frustrating to find out that the people of Tortuga were not very trusting of strangers or visitors. She sprinted from door to door, requesting stay for the night, but was repeatedly turned away with distrustful looks. What were they even worried about? She was just a girl! It was a while later, when she was hunkered down in an alley trying to stay out of the rain, that Emma noticed a sign swinging wildly in the storm.

The Salty Dog Inn.

Without a second thought, she ran from the alley and crashed through the inn's door. The sound of men yelling and laughing met her ears and the instant warmth from a fire seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill she'd had from the rain and wind.

"Hi, there! You want a room?" The words came almost immediately after she'd entered. Emma attempted to wring some of the water from her hair and clothes as she turned to look in the direction of the voice. It had come from a small girl sitting behind a desk next to a slightly older boy. She was young, most likely the same age as Emma, with dark brown wavy hair and was giving Emma a curious smile.

"I… um… yes. I'd like a room."

"You're not from around here." It was so apparent that the girl didn't even phrase it as a question.

"No, I'm not." Emma looked through the doorway to a warmly-lit pub before walking over the desk. "I just got into town." Apparently not one to mess around, the boy told her the daily rates and Emma felt her heart drop; she didn't have enough.

"Oh… I'm afraid I don't have that much."

"Best be on your way then." At the harsh words, the brunette gave the boy a contemptuous frown.

"August, look at her – she's new in town, she's soaked, _and_ she doesn't have any money. She can't stay on the streets!"

"I don't want to kick her out either but she doesn't have enough money. You know Dad's rules… what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to give her a room, idiot!" Emma stared at the pair as they argued.

"Well I can't just _give_ her one!" They glared at each other for a moment before the boy threw his hands up in surrender and shoved his chair back. "Fine! I swear, if you weren't my sister…" The boy moved from behind the desk with the girl following close behind him, a victorious smirk on her face. "You, come with us."

Emma followed the siblings upstairs and to a room at the end of a long hallway. The boy knocked once before opening the door to reveal a man seated at a desk counting money. He glanced up once at their entry and then did a double take at the sight of Emma.

"What's going on?" Obviously he was the type of man that knew when something was up.

"This girl…" The brunette motioned to Emma. "She needs a place to stay but she doesn't have enough money…"

The man held up his hand to cut her off. "No money, no room – those are the rules. You know that."

"But Dad, she's just moved here!" The girl ran over to the man and grabbed at his sleeve desperately. Emma had always found it easier to play the sweet and innocent daughter act to her father rather than her mother; fathers just seemed to fall for it more easily. Clearly this girl had the same idea. The man looked from his daughter to Emma.

"Not many people move to Tortuga. Who are you, girl? Where'd you come from?"

This was what she'd been waiting for, the inevitable questions of who was she, where'd she come from, why was she alone, and where were her parents. She was willing to give people her name – Tortuga was so far outside the kingdom that the residents wouldn't even know who the king and queen were, much less the name of the princess – but she would have to leave out the rest.

"My name's Emma Swan and it doesn't matter where I'm from. I can never go back."

The trio stared at her for a second before the girl turned to her father, tugging on his sleeve.

"See, Dad, she needs a place to stay. Can she stay? Please?"

"We're near full and she doesn't have enough money… I have a business to run."

"What if she worked here?" It was the boy – August – that spoke now in her defense. "Just the other day you were saying how we needed help." If this worked, she'd have to remember to kiss him later – on the cheek, of course.

"Hmm… that is true…" The man trailed off, thinking, while Emma waited on bated breath. "Alright, girl, here's my offer. You get free lodging here for as long as you work for me; you'll start at the desk with my daughter and then we'll see where it goes from there. I'll also throw in a few shillings a week if you turn out to be helpful. If it turns out you're useless, you're back out on the streets. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Emma felt like she could fly. What luck! Not only did she have a place to stay, she also had work. He nodded sharply and began to count his money again before pausing to look up at them.

"Well what are you three standing around for? Get downstairs and get to work." The three of them stampeded back downstairs before pausing in the front room.

"I have to get back to the bar. Ruby, you'll be okay here in the front?" The girl nodded eagerly. "And you'll show her what to do?" Another nod.

As August made his way into the bar, Emma turned to her new friend, grasping her hands firmly. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without you." The girl just waved the thanks off with a smile.

"It's nothing – now let's get to work. I have so much to show you!"

* * *

"So how exactly does one get to Neverland?"

Emma stood on the upper deck of the Jolly Roger next to Hook as his crewmembers scurried around on the deck below preparing the ship's sails and riggings for the journey. It was apparent that they'd made this trip before and knew what the journey there entailed, what dangers they might face. Watching them, she still wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous. An exhilarating thrill went through her at the thought of the magical land, but Hook's reluctant acceptance of Neverland as their next heading had given her pause. Against her better judgment, though, she found she trusted him.

"_Here." She instinctively caught the tossed item and found it to be one of his shirts. "It'll be big on you but at least it's clean."_

"_Thank you." Her own shirt was impossibly dirty, had a knife-sized slit in the side, and sported a rather bloodstain. Not exactly the most appealing attire. Emma stared at Hook, waiting for him to leave._

"_Well go on then – put it on."_

_She gave him a hard look. "With you watching? I think not."_

"_No need to be shy…" He trailed off teasingly. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."_

_She paused at his words, the knowledge that she'd woken up in his cabin earlier with her wound already bandaged floating through her mind. She'd been unconscious… it would have only been too easy for him to…_

"_Hook, tell me you didn't?"_

"_What are you talking about?" His face was trained in an innocent expression but his voice was anything but._

"_You know very well what I'm talking about. You can't just take advantage of an unconscious person like that. It's indecent!"_

"_I didn't take advantage of anyone." There was a mischievous lilt to his voice._

"_You just said it wouldn't be anything you haven't seen before!"_

"_Who said I was talking about you, love?"_

_Her mouth shut with an audible snap._

"_As far as I'm aware, your body should be similar to those of other women." She could feel her cheeks flush as he gave her one of his smug smirks. She'd taken the bait he'd thrown out hook, line, and sinker. "However, I can't say that with complete surety so I'm more than willing to check just to make sure."_

"_Out, Hook!"_

_Instead of listening to her, though, he crossed the cabin to stand directly in front of her. Emma did her best to glare at him, tried to show him she was frustrated, but the self-satisfied grin he was giving her was wearing her down and she couldn't help the slight lift she felt at the corners of her mouth. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her still-warm cheeks._

"_That blush looks good on you, love. I'll have to aim for that more often." Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left her alone in the cabin. She waited for a moment, debating on whether to trust him to be a gentleman and let her change in privacy, before she ripped her dirty shirt over her head and pulled on his black one._

_Emma didn't know what to make of Hook anymore. _

_They'd started their – relationship? – with playful banter and teasing innuendos that she was able to resist relatively easy. Sure, his words affected her, they would affect any normal girl with hormones and a pulse, but she'd convinced herself that it would be best to avoid crossing that line with him. Ruby had taught her early on not to trust the pirates that came through town with anything more than a casual fling and Emma had lived by her friend's words, never giving anything more than her body to a man. _

_But she wasn't sure she could keep body and mind separate when it came to Hook. _

_He was charming and sexy and knew exactly how to draw her in, and she could feel herself fall for him in a way that made her nervous. That's why she resisted him, resisted his advances. For almost two years she had vehemently denied her attraction to him. Ruby had never believed her and Emma had begun to wonder who exactly she was trying to convince – her friend or herself. _

_Over the years, it had become a sort of stalemate between the two of them, almost their own norm. They both knew that he wanted her, he made that plainly obvious, and they both knew that she was interested but hesitant to cross that line. So he'd waited, only going so far with his inferences, never pushing her too far. She'd expected him to give up after some time – he was a man, after all – but he'd stuck around. She didn't know what he did when he wasn't in Tortuga, but when he was in town his focus was on her and that kind of dedication made resisting him hard. _

_Really hard._

_But things were different between them now. _

_The change had started the day she'd finally asked about his tattoo, about the mysterious Milah. Sharing something personal as they did had shifted them, pushing them into new and different territory. And then there had been their last sparring match… he'd tried to play it off, saying that it was because she owed him, but they both knew that when he moved to kiss her that day it'd had nothing to do with collecting payment. And then there was the kiss… well, kisses. He'd cashed in on that payment, but instead of just one kiss, it had spiraled well out of her control. The fact that she'd furthered the situation only proved that she couldn't keep a level head around him._

_And so now here they were. All of those singular moments had combined to change their dynamic, bringing them to this new place where the line she'd kept between them was blurred and starting to fade. She'd continue to resist him, she knew she would. But it wasn't because she didn't trust him. _

_It was that she didn't trust herself enough to let go with him._

Hook closed his compass with a sharp snap and turned the wheel slightly. She tried not to admire him too much as she watched him navigate the ship, but it was hard not to when it was obvious how much he belonged at sea, at the helm of a ship. For the past two years, all of their time spent together had been on land either practicing in the clearing or in the bar. Here, he was in his element.

The wind blew strongly, tousling his hair and fluttering his shirt, and he stood there, hand holding a compass and hook on the wheel, with a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face that was unlike anything she'd ever seen during his time on land. He was a pirate, through and through, and she couldn't imagine him anywhere else than where he was right then.

"There are several ways..." He barked out an order to a man below and adjusted the ship's direction again. "My first time travelling to Neverland was using a sail made with the feathers from a Pegasus' wings. Bet you didn't know that the magic instilled in the flying horses also transfers to their feathers?" She hadn't known that, having only seen a Pegasus in person once. "The feathers' magic allowed us to fly here."

"Fly? You flew a _ship_?"

"Technically my brother did, but yes, we flew there. You know – second star the right and straight on 'til morning." The words from the childhood fairytale came back to her. "You never forget your first."

She shot him a look but he just winked in response. Emma was secretly relieved at his return to his usual innuendos. Their conversation in his cabin a couple hours before had been a serious one, not to mention their little… well, she wasn't quite sure what to call that yet. Either way, it was nice to see him acting normally again. She wasn't sure if she would've been able to handle delving into a discussion about what happened and was grateful he seemed willing to leave it be.

For now, at least.

Because she knew he wouldn't drop the issue forever.

"_You're much more than just a simple deal, love."_

Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks just thinking about it. The feel of his lips on hers, coaxing them open as he'd plundered her mouth. The heat of his body as it had pressed and rubbed against hers. The sound of his ragged breath as he'd forced himself to pull away. The knowledge that she hadn't wanted it to stop – wasn't sure if she would've even been _able_ to stop.

Her gaze slid to the side and she found him watching her, smirking. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Emma rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding that Hook's smirk should be classified as a deadly weapon and outlawed – a weapon of mass destruction to the hearts and minds of women everywhere. She heard him chuckle softly.

"The second time I travelled to Neverland was using a magic bean, which is also what we'll be using today. It's a bit of a rough ride as opposed to flying but its magic will steer us true."

Anticipating her interest, he was already holding the bean up for her to observe when she faced him. He dropped it into her hand for her to look at. The bean was certainly not like any other legume she'd seen in her life; larger and slightly translucent, it felt unnaturally warm in her hand.

"How on earth did you get, not one, but _two_ magic beans? I thought they'd all been destroyed years ago in the giant wars."

"I've done quite a bit more adventuring than you have, love. Plus, I have a crewmember with the ability to procure hard-to-find objects – Smee. He's quite useful, really." Emma looked down to the deck below and spotted Smee. The pirate that always stumbled about wearing the sloppy, red hat seemed exactly the opposite of useful; apparently, his other talents made him invaluable.

"Well, I suppose here's as good a spot as any." Hook leaned forward to yell to his men. "Brace yourselves, lads – next stop, Neverland!" All of the men cheered uproariously in response, seemingly excited for another adventure. "Hold tight, love – this is going to get messy."

She glanced around at the sparse upper deck. "Hold on to what?"

"Anything."

Emma watched as he threw the magic bean far out in the water. Instantly, the sky above them darkened and it was as if a vacuum had opened up beneath the water. A giant hole appeared, all of the water rushing down into it, creating a huge maelstrom. The water under the Jolly Roger was pulled forward, causing the ship to jerk, and she reached out to grasp the railing of the deck to avoid falling.

Hook was back at the wheel. He strained to hold it steady against the pull of the water, trying to keep the ship from going forward too quickly. The men below secured themselves by grabbing onto any fixed object they could find; Emma even noticed a few flee beneath the deck to a safer, more sheltered environment and she wondered what would happen if a person where to fall overboard between the two realms.

It wasn't long before Hook abandoned the helm, the maelstrom having taken complete control of the structure, and came to stand beside where she gripped the railing. The water drew the ship along, circling it along the outer edge of the massive whirlpool.

"Ready?"

Emma didn't even have time to respond as they tipped towards the edge of the portal. The ship angled sharply downward and she felt her foot slide out from beneath her on the slippery deck. Her shin scraped painfully against the lowest railing, but she had a firm grip on the top beam and managed to drag herself back up. Suddenly, Hook moved behind her, placing his hand and hook on either side of hers and pressing his body against her back to steady her against the railing. He was protecting her. There wasn't time to process his actions, though, because it was then that the ship went over the edge completely.

Then she was falling.

Actually, the whole ship was falling, but Emma found she didn't care about anything except the weightless sensation in her stomach at the sudden loss of gravity. The men were yelling – some in fear, some in enjoyment – and a whirlwind of lights swirled around the ship. When they began to make her feel dizzy, she closed her eyes and focused on the solid feeling of Hook against her back, the movement of him lowering his face into the crook of her neck.

The trip through the portal couldn't have taken more than a few seconds, but it felt like the longest seconds of Emma's life. Once they were safely on the other side and she was able to think coherently again, she was absolutely sure she never wanted to travel by way of magic bean again. Altogether, it was a most unpleasant experience.

"Alright there, love?"

"Can we please _never_ do that again?" She felt Hook press a soft kiss to her shoulder and smile against her skin; her whole body was shaking from the fall and he could probably feel it.

"I don't know; I quite enjoy the feeling of you trembling in my arms." She remained quiet, refusing to respond. "What if our only way home is via magic bean?"

"It's not, is it?" She turned to face him, his arms still secured on either side of her body. "Please tell me there's another way home!"

He laughed and they both ignored how the men below started cheering again, this time all in enjoyment. "There's another way home."

Emma stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Are you just saying that because it's what I want to hear?" She was fairly good at knowing when someone was lying to her but she'd always found it very hard to read Hook.

"I promise, love, there's another way we'll be going home. I'm fresh out of beans." They remained there for a moment longer than necessary – Emma pressed against the railing and Hook leaning towards her with both his arms caging her in – before he retreated, making his way down to the lower deck. Emma couldn't help but wonder if this would be a regular occurrence with him now, invading her personal space.

Hook busied himself on deck with his crew, checking the rigging and sails for damage and righting overturned equipment and supplies. It looked like the ship and the whole crew had made the portal jump in one piece; she didn't know them too terribly well but was still relieved they hadn't lost anyone.

Taking a moment, she examined her surroundings. It had been late afternoon when they'd left the Enchanted Forest but the sky above her was the intense dark right before dawn. Apparently, time flowed differently here in Neverland. The dark ocean spread out in all directions and Emma could just make out the outline of an island in the distance.

"So what's our plan of action, Captain?"

The query caught her attention; she'd been wondering the same thing. Nothing motivated like a little dark magic coursing through your blood trying to kill you.

"The lass is gravely injured." Emma saw several members of the crew glance up at her. "Magic is the only thing that can cure her ailment so our plan is to seek out the pixies."

"But Cap'n, don't they already know we're here?"

"Undoubtedly so, but we don't have the time to waste waiting for them to come to us. It would save us a lot of trouble, though, if that damned Tinkerbell would show up." Hook looked out towards the island she'd spotted earlier. It was an odd sort of name – she assumed it was a name – and sounded silly, a tad too girly, coming from Hook. "Prepare to set sail for Pixie Hollow."

All of a sudden, Emma felt faint. Since she'd awakened on the Jolly Roger, her day had been nothing but one burst of action after another; now, it seemed everything was catching up to her. The slight swaying of the ship felt much worse than she knew it really was and she could feel the nausea creep up on her. At the same time, she felt a dull ache in her side and pressed her hand to her cursed wound. When she blinked, she was surprised to find herself laid out on the deck with no clue as to how she got there, and when she made a move to stand up, she realized she couldn't move at all, had no control over her muscles anymore.

"Captain!"

Emma couldn't even turn her head to look at Hook as he rushed up the steps to her, dropping to his knees beside her body. She didn't know which of his crew had called attention to her but she'd have to find out and thank him later.

"Swan, what's wrong?"

She was on board a ship full of pirates, she was wounded by a knife that had been filled with dark magic, she'd collapsed yet again, and she was searching for pixies in a land most people didn't even know existed.

What _wasn't_ wrong?

"I ca…" Damn, that stab wound was really smarting now. "I can't move."

Hook reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up to look at the wound. Emma could just move her eyes enough to see how the dark lines had spread far past the wound; they'd progressed beyond the bandages and some strayed dangerously in the direction of her heart.

"We need to get you to the pixies now. This is spreading a lot faster than I thought it would."

"Perfect…" Emma tried for a valiant chuckle but it came out weak. She expected him to make some kind of joke to ease the seriousness of the situation so his next words were unexpected.

"Ah, looks like we have company. Perfect timing."

Hook wore a relieved smile and pointed off into the distance. At first, she couldn't see anything; then she noticed a small light coming towards the ship, growing larger by the second. The ball of light reached the vessel, flying in a circle around it, before coming towards Hook, moving quickly around his head until it stopped to hover directly in front of his face.

"Hello, Tink."

The light grew brighter, so bright that Emma had to squint, before it faded to reveal a petite woman.

"Hello, Killian. I've missed you."

_This_ was Tinkerbell?

She was a dainty little thing, barely coming up to Hook's chin, and the playful grin on her face gave Emma the impression that she could be fairly wild. Her curly blonde hair was twisted up into a messy ponytail and she wore a short green dress that didn't leave much to the imagination.

"As well you should." He was joking with her, but his playful demeanor gradually changed to something more genuine. "It's been a while."

It happened fast – Tinkerbell launched herself forward, covering the space between them, and embraced Hook in a hug. Tinkerbell was laughing gaily as Hook hugged her and Emma could see where she got her name; her laugh sounded like tiny bells. Over Hook's shoulder, Tinkerbell's eyes found Emma lying on the deck and she pulled out of the embrace.

"And who's this?"

"This is Emma, she's the reason I'm here."

"Oh?"

"She was stabbed almost two days ago by a blade cursed with dark magic. I used the pixie dust you'd given me, but it wasn't enough to heal her; all it did was slow the spreading." Pixie dust was a great deal more powerful than fairy dust and significantly rarer. For him to have some on hand and choose to use it on her was… well, it was more than Emma would've expected.

"Yes, it would take a great deal more magic than my pixie dust contains to stop a curse. The only one that could stop dark magic would be…"

"Clarion. I know." Based on the look on his face, that wasn't a good thing.

"She'll never agree to it."

"She might." Hook glanced at Emma, quickly looking back to the pixie. "She doesn't have much time left, Tink. Will you take her?"

"Killian…" Tinkerbell's voice sounded doubtful.

"Just try? Remember, you owe me." She wondered what exactly Tinkerbell owed him for but the pixie just sighed and gave Hook an exasperated look similar to the kind Emma frequently gave him; he must get those a lot.

"Only for you." Then she was walking over to Emma and kneeling next to her. "Hello, Emma. Just try to relax." As if she had a choice – she couldn't move.

Tinkerbell opened a small bottle and immediately the area was filled with a comforting fragrance. It was a mixture of scents, each of which brought a vision to mind – the smoke from burning logs in the inn's fireplace as she worked, her mother's faint rose-scented perfume as she tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, the briny ocean air as she stood on the beach with her toes buried in the sand, the hint of leather and rum as she crossed swords with Hook in the clearing.

"What is that?" Emma couldn't help but ask.

"Pixie dust – it's to help you fly. It smells good, doesn't it?" The pixie smiled. "A person needs to think of happy thoughts to fly so the pixie dust will always smell like the things that make you happiest. It smells different to every person."

Tapping the bottle lightly, Tinkerbell sprinkled a faint coating of the dust over Emma's body. The scents from some of her happiest memories were overpowering, making it impossible to think of anything but those moments. Without warning, Emma realized she was now hovering several inches above the ground; the only thing keeping her from floating away was Tinkerbell's hand pressed firmly against her stomach.

"I want her back in one piece, Tink." She couldn't turn her head to look at Hook, but she heard the warning beneath the words.

"Don't worry, Killian, she's in good hands."

And with that, they were off. A light emanated brightly from the pixie's body and when it faded she was once again a miniature version of herself. Her wings fluttered as she guided them away from the Jolly Roger and through the Neverland sky; Emma could just make out the sea and then the woods beneath her as they moved inland. It wasn't long before they began to descend, Tinkerbell pressing firmly into her stomach to force her down.

"I guess I didn't need to give you so much dust." She grunted with the strain of pushing Emma down, her wings fluttering wildly. "You're happy thoughts are a little strong."

Surprisingly, Emma felt a wave of disappointment flood through her as grew closer to the ground. Unlike travelling by magic bean, flying had been exhilarating, and she could distinctly remember how exciting the thought had been as a child. Her body hovered a couple inches before it dropped to the ground with a thump, her disappointment cutting through the last of her happy thoughts, ending her ability to fly. Tinkerbell stood beside her, human-sized once more.

"Emma, I'm going to have to ask Clarion to help. She's our queen and the only one powerful enough to heal you."

"_Will_ she help me?"

"That's the catch." Emma didn't like the sound of that. "She's not very fond of Killian, not after his last time here. His actions caused something of a rift between the pixies and himself. It will take some convincing for Clarion to agree, but I have an idea."

"And that would be…?"

"Our queen loves an honorable heart."

"Come forward, Tinkerbell." With a reassuring smile, the pixie left her range of sight and Emma was left staring up at the sky, only able to listen to their discussion.

"Is it true that Captain Hook and his band of miscreants have returned to Neverland once more?"

"Yes, your majesty." Emma could hear a rumble of discontent go through the crowd and Tinkerbell hurriedly continued. "However, this time he has come to Neverland on peaceable terms."

"Peaceable terms… So you are saying he has finally abandoned his quest for revenge, then?"

Revenge?

"I believe so."

There was a pause and Emma wished she could actually see the people – pixies, rather – that held her fate in their hands.

"So then what does the captain desire this time?"

"He came here specifically to seek our help. This woman is under his care and has been wounded with dark magic. He would ask our help in saving her life."

"That is a noble voyage, indeed." The two pixies made Hook sound so damn heroic that Emma was glad he wasn't around to hear, knowing it would only inflate his ego. After a moment's hesitation, the queen continued. "Very well, I will do what I can."

Emma released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She could barely hear the quiet footsteps coming towards her; then they stopped and Emma was staring up at Queen Clarion. She had a nice face, pleasant enough that it made you want to be her comrade but also stern enough that you trusted her to be a wise leader. Clarion smiled down at her.

"Hello, Emma." She couldn't remember anyone ever mentioning her name during the conversation and wondered how the queen knew it. "Don't fret. All will be better soon." The pixie queen's hand passed over Emma's face and she felt herself fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

**This story is consuming my life. Honestly. When I'm not writing, I'm thinking about it. I've even taken to carrying a composition notebook with me where I write down ideas, notes, and lines I want to remember and include in later chapters. It's crazy, but in a good way. I'm not complaining!**

**On another note - this isn't my favorite chapter. I worked on it quite a bit and am still not happy with it, but it's that in between stuff that needs to happen so I guess it is what it is.**

**By the way, have I ever mentioned how much I love all of you? Because I do! Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favoriting, and/or following!**


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I used some direct quotes from Barrie's Peter Pan to describe some of the things the crew encounters in Neverland. I certainly didn't write the original Peter Pan, so yeah – not mine.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**A Promotion and A Few Encounters**

"_This is where the spiral catches you – this is where it starts."_

* * *

Emma should be getting married today.

At least, she would've been had she not run away. Today was her eighteenth birthday, something only Ruby and August knew but would no doubt still find a way to celebrate about later that night. It was strange to think she'd been gone for six years already and really did consider the rough port town of Tortuga her home now.

"You have to keep up with the washing or you'll run out of tankards before the night's even halfway done."

Emma turned to give August an exasperated look. Tonight was her and Ruby's first night working the bar instead of the reception area and August was on hand to show them the ropes, but the crowd of thirsty men was beginning to overwhelm Emma.

The switch had been brought up a couple weeks beforehand when one of the patrons had made the comment that Ruby and Emma would be easier on the eyes over a tankard of ale than August. It didn't take long for the suggestion to spread to all of the patrons, each time met with a grunt of approval, and finally reach the owner's ears. With some deliberation, he'd finally agreed that the trade made sense; after all, more men were likely to show up and spend money if Ruby and Emma were serving them drinks.

"How am I supposed to keep serving drinks, though, if I'm washing dishes?" The juggle of duties behind the bar was far more demanding than August had ever made it seem and she wondered how he'd managed by himself all these years.

"Most of the time you get some lulls and can clean up, but sometimes you just have to tell 'em to hold on. If they really want a drink, they'll wait."

Ruby hurried into the bar and unloaded a tray full of tankards into the wash bin Emma had just managed to empty with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry Emma, you can pay me back tomorrow."

When deciding the workload, Emma and Ruby had decided to trade out on floor versus bar duty. They'd originally figured Ruby, with her long legs and stunning physique, would do better on the floor, but changed their mind because Emma couldn't exactly be considered plain. She had matured over the years to have long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back, hazel eyes that Ruby said could stop a man in his tracks, a light skin tone that some said made her look angelic when combined with her blonde hair, and a slender body with just a few slight curves that made her far from unappealing.

The owner believed that, with Emma and Ruby working the bar, profit was almost guaranteed. Men would be constantly calling them over to order more drinks just to get a chance to talk – or maybe even a touch – and more drinks meant more money. Emma had asked Ruby once how her father felt about her being objectified, but she'd had only laughed it off and reminded her that this was Tortuga and that was just the way things were.

"Yeah, you just wait." Emma gave the brunette a mock glare. "I've heard that payback's a bitch."

"Ruby, fill up some more tankards and get back out there; Emma, stop washing and go take some orders."

Emma was glad that August would be helping them these first couple weeks, but she was also excited for the time when they would be able to manage the bar on their own without him. August tended to be all business; Emma and Ruby tended to mix business _and_ fun.

It was late, close to three in the morning, when the last of the patrons left and Emma flopped down onto one of the benches. She was completely exhausted, this being the first time she'd been able to sit down in hours, but still felt that her first evening as a barmaid far outweighed a possible first evening as a wife. Barmaid trumped an arranged marriage in her book.

After cleaning off one last table, Ruby came to sit beside her.

"So what do you think – bar or reception?"

Emma could remember all the long hours of sitting in the small lobby. The only thing that had made it even remotely enjoyable was the fun that the two girls would get into that usually had nothing to do with work and more to do with flirting and teasing the patrons entering or exiting the tavern.

"Bar, hands down."

August chose that moment to sidle up to them, one arm held mysteriously behind his back. "You both did really well tonight. The switch was obviously a good idea; I don't remember the last time we had such a lucrative night."

"Probably the night before you started working the bar." August's pleased expression turned into a frown at Ruby's teasing jab but he didn't respond. Originally, there had been another lady working the bar, but when she decided to run off with one of the patrons, August had been forced to step in to fill the vacancy. Even after all these years, the patrons still gave him a hard time about him being less than appealing when compared to the previous barmaid.

"I made this for you two. A congratulations, of sorts, on your promotion."

August held out what looked like a normal piece of wood but on closer inspection was more. It was roughly three feet long, shaved down from a larger log to a manageable size so that either Emma or Ruby could handle it, and had a small handgrip carved into the smaller, tapered end.

"Um… thanks?" The brunette took the piece of wood hesitantly.

"It's a club." Emma looked at him blankly and, judging by his exasperated expression, Ruby was doing the same thing. "Things get kind of rough in here sometimes and I just want you two to have something to defend yourselves with if things start to get out of hand." August rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet their eyes, clearly embarrassed. Emma had hardly ever seen displays of fondness between the two siblings – they had more disputes than anything else – so the show of affection was somewhat awkward for Ruby and August.

"So let me get this straight…" Ruby had an excited gleam in her eyes that Emma knew could only mean trouble. "You're saying that we're free to beat any guy over the head with this?"

August gave her a look. "Well I'd prefer you not go beating up every patron in the bar as that tends to be bad for business, but if a guy is seriously harassing you, yes, you can use the club."

The brunette broke out into an evil grin. "Excellent! First guy to grab my ass tomorrow – _wham_!"

"You're violent tendencies scare me sometimes, Ruby." Emma tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn't help the laugh that escaped her when the girl gave her a wolfish grin.

* * *

Twenty-five days

Emma needed food.

Actually, the whole crew of the Jolly Roger needed food, but she was so hungry that the phrase 'every man for himself' was starting to sound better and better. Let them figure out their own food problem; they ate far more than she did, anyway. She glanced at the short span of water between the ship and the beach and debated if she could swim there in time to avoid the mermaids that Hook had told her occasionally plagued the area. As her stomach grumbled rather loudly and annoyingly, she decided that it was a risk she was almost willing to take.

It had been almost four weeks now since Clarion, the pixie queen, had made good on her word, successfully healing Emma of the dark magic that had been inflicted by the stabbing back in Tortuga and returning her to Hook in one piece. Emma couldn't remember much of what happened in the days to follow. Apparently, being cured from the dark curse had taken its toll and she'd ended up sleeping off the aftereffects for the majority of the next few days in Hook's cabin; although, she supposed that what was previously his cabin was now their cabin as she'd been staying in it even after she'd recovered.

"_What are you doing?"_

_Emma crossed the room and flopped down onto the sofa, fluffing the pillow she'd snatched from his bed and placing it behind her head. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sleeping on the couch."_

"_Why?" He seemed genuinely confused and Emma almost thought the puzzled look was cute._

"_Because I'm not sleeping in the bed."_

"_You've been sleeping in the bed for the past four days…"_

"_Only because I didn't have a say in the matter seeing how I was pretty much unconscious." Emma flicked the extra sheet she'd found in his armoire, the fabric spreading out and falling over her._

"_Well, this will make things a little more difficult." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "The bed is definitely larger… but I suppose we could make it work on the sofa as well. We'll just have to get creative." He gave her a smirk and wink combo and she looked away, smiling slightly._

"_I'm sleeping on the couch – alone."_

"_That's a shame, especially when my bed is quite comfortable." She knew that to be true, having spent most of her recovery time sleeping in it. She'd found out later that Hook had, surprisingly, been quite the gentleman and slept on the couch._

"_Yes, I'm sure many women would testify as to how comfortable your bed is."_

"_There's more than enough room here for both of us, love." He said it with a teasing lilt that never failed to make her smile._

"_Try all you want, Hook, there's no way I'm staying in that bed with you."_

"_You don't trust me, love?"_

_More like she didn't trust herself._

"_I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."_

"_Hand, love – just one. But just so you know, I've had plenty of years to adapt. I've learned to do a great many things one-handed."_

"_I'm sure you have."_

Emma had been mentally preparing herself for the combined leap into the water and mad swim to shore – which she honestly knew she wouldn't do, she was just being dramatic – when Hook had come up behind her.

"I wouldn't chance it, love. You'll never make it to shore."

It was unnerving how he always seemed to know what she was thinking, but he'd also told her once before that she was very easy to read, that she was something of an open book.

"Well if we don't get some food soon, I'll jump into the water anyway just to lure a damn mermaid to catch and eat."

He chuckled. "You could try but seeing how a mermaid is half human, eating one is probably borderline cannibalism, which is generally frowned on." The gnawing sensation in her stomach prevented her mind from appreciating his joke, instead only making her frown.

They'd needed food for a while now. The unexpected and hasty departure from Tortuga, along with the impromptu trip to Neverland, had prevented Hook from restocking the food supply aboard the ship and now their provisions were beginning to run dangerously low.

He sighed at her silence. "I know we need food; that's why we're going ashore today." Emma perked up, her frown disappearing instantly. "The plans are to drop anchor just up ahead. Then, I'll take a small crew to land to search for food."

"About bloody time – when do we go?"

"_We_ will be leaving as soon as we drop anchor; _you_ will be staying here." Unbelievable. Frown already back, Emma opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about being left behind, but he held up his hand to stop her. "The Tiki Forest is a dangerous place, love, and I wouldn't have you getting hurt."

Emma stubbornly crossed her arms and refused to back down. "What was the point of all those swordplay lessons, then? I thought you were teaching me how to defend myself."

"Aye, and they'd no doubt come in handy if a wild boar decided to pull a sword on you and request a duel, but this is Neverland not Wonderland. I doubt your newfound sword-wielding abilities will be much help in taking down wild animals."

"I have other skills and you know it." She'd meant her statement to be taken as skills that would be helpful in collecting food, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized the opportunity she'd made available for Hook to make a sexually-suggestive comment. She was not disappointed as his face broke into a devilish smirk.

"Of that I've no doubt." He was standing too close to her now, invading her personal space as he did on what seemed like a regular basis now. "In fact, I'm aware of a great many skills you possess – swordplay, bartending, sailing, archery, kissing…"

"Putting up with you." She mumbled it under her breath and tried to hide the blush she felt at the reminder of their incident. She knew he'd heard her but he seemed untroubled by her addition to his list, shrugging casually.

"I'm sure you possess a number of other skills as well that I would be more than happy to discover if you would allow it."

"So then you'll let me come?"

"No."

"Then how will you find out about my other skills?" She was pulling at straws now.

He leaned forward and Emma instinctively pressed back against the railing to maintain the space between them, but her back could only bend so far. He paused, face dangerously close to hers. "When I mentioned the other talents I'd like to discover, what I really meant were those more suited to a bedroom."

"Gah, Hook!" She gave him one of her best glares and pushed him away from her but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with how she'd walked into his suggestion. She moved from the side of the ship to prevent Hook from trapping her again. "This isn't fair." It came out in an almost-whine and Emma was absolutely sure she hadn't used that phrase since going through puberty.

"Yes, well, life tends to be unfair."

"You can't just tell me what I can and cannot do."

"I beg to differ." He moved then to take her spot against the side of the ship, leaning against it in a casual and impossibly sexy way that Emma did her best not to acknowledge. "One of the perks of being a captain, love, is that I get to make all the rules. So as long as you reside on the Jolly Roger, you play by my rules."

"Hook, you know I can help. I've seen the bow you have down in the cargo hold and you know that I'm a good shot." She'd found the bow not long after her recovery and had wondered where he'd gotten it but hadn't asked.

He held his chin thoughtfully. "Your safety would be compromised on land, and I don't enjoy the thought of being the one to put you in harm's way." His voice still held the teasing inflection from earlier, but his eyes betrayed the seriousness he felt about the situation.

"I trust you to protect me." It was a comment directed to appeal to one of a man's most basic instincts – the need to protect a lady – and it was her last resort.

The corner of his lips turned up and he pushed off from the railing, moving towards her again. With nothing but open deck behind her, there was no way for him to trap her again, but she chose to hold her ground and allow him to approach her. Emma wanted to prove that his self-assuredness didn't intimidate her – although, really, it did. He stopped when roughly a foot of space remained between them and reached forward to trail his fingertips lightly up her arm.

"But what if I'm the one you need protecting from, love?"

She felt her traitorous body respond to his charm yet again as her heart sped up and goosebumps broke out on in his fingers' wake. In an attempt to maintain some sort of control, she narrowed her eyes and tried to glare, although she wasn't sure how effective it really was. She figured he was aware of the effect he had on her, but he didn't push it this time, choosing to step back with a small laugh, instead.

"Fine, you can come." The moment gone, she broke out into a grin which most likely stretched from ear to ear. "But you have to stay with me. You can't go wandering off on your own."

"Deal." As if she would disagree.

It hadn't taken them long to get crew together and make their way to shore. Immediately, the crewmembers began to wander off into the jungle to hunt for food, but Hook had led Emma onto a well-worn trail, specifically telling her not to leave the path for any reason. The trail was narrow, forcing them to walk single file, and Emma insisted Hook go first, not quite trusting him to be behind her where she couldn't see him.

She'd known he wouldn't be able to refuse a comment – _"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just wanted to sneak a peek at me"_ – but they fell into silence after that as they moved quietly down the path, ever watchful for anything that could be killed for a meal. The Enchanted Forest didn't really offer any jungles, so she found the atmosphere to be slightly claustrophobic. The narrow trail was lined with huge plants that blocked her view, heavy vines hung from the trees that towered overhead and blocked the sunlight, and the buzz of various insects hummed in the background. It felt like the entire jungle pressed in against her from all sides. Altogether, quite different from the forests she'd grown up in.

They hadn't been on the trail long when Hook came to a halt so abruptly that she almost ran into him. Peering over his shoulder, she searched for the reason they'd stopped. A dark shape lumbered through the trees and brush ahead of them. All pointed teeth and powerful frame and sharp claws – it was a bear. A _massive_ bear. Her heart began to pound in a mixture of fear and anticipation. While she'd spent most of her life honing her archery skills, she'd had very few chances to put her talent to practical use. Most of her time had been spent shooting at inanimate targets, with the exception of the group of men that had rushed her that night in Tortuga.

What she faced now was no target.

With more determination and confidence than she actually felt, Emma squared her jaw and nocked an arrow while Hook lowered into a crouch to give her room to shoot. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure that if the bear didn't hear it, it would be able to feel it through the earth. It moved slightly in the brush, giving her a perfect shot. Bow drawn, she stared down the arrow shaft at the bear and felt herself hesitate.

What if she merely wounded the animal? Would it rush to attack them, attempt to claw them to pieces in an injured rage?

What if she missed completely?

Emma wasn't sure how long she stood there, but then she felt Hook's hand settle around her ankle, could feel the pressure of it through her boot. He gave a reassuring squeeze – _you can do this_.

Drawing on his confidence in her, she let the arrow fly and it struck true, disappearing into the fur and flesh right behind its front shoulder where Emma knew its vital organs were. The bear roared in pain, its wild eyes rolling in every direction before they pinned on her. Emma stared at the beast in shock as it began to clamber through the brush straight towards her, but just when they were about to run, the animal slowed, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Her arrow had done its job.

Without warning, Hook stood up and pulled her into his chest in a crushing hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder and laughed with him, distractedly noticing how she could feel his racing heart, still charged with energy, mirror hers. "Excellent job, love! Perfect shot."

It was a completely genuine hug, one of the few non-sexually-charged interactions she'd had with Hook, and she found she enjoyed it much more than she would like to admit.

Fifty-four days

The song drifting through the air was hauntingly beautiful, even from a distance. It was dusk, that time of the evening where the light is fading, making it difficult to see, but Emma could still make out the shapes against the rocks. Bright skin, long hair, and scales. The disturbingly humanoid creatures waved to the ship.

"Those are mermaids?"

"Aye." Hook leaned against the railing beside her on the upper deck. His face was unnaturally tense, jaw clenched tight; all of his typical, carefree swagger was gone. He stared out at the women on the rocks.

"They don't look all _that_ bad…"

"Don't let them fool you, love. Mermaids are a nasty business. Dark and dangerous creatures in touch with all things mysterious." He frowned as one of them sang a particularly high note. "During the day they swim all through the sea around here and then come back to these rocks near sunset and rising tide before going to their underwater caves. We call it Mermaids' Lagoon." He motioned to a large rock in the middle of the lagoon. "They particularly like Marooner's Rock."

Emma watched as a few of the mermaids splashed their fins playfully in the water. Half-fish or not, they were still half-woman and therefore knew how to draw a man's attention. Obviously, female charms could cross species.

"They'll drown a man just as soon as look at him."

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the mermaids lounging on the rocks, and Emma suddenly realized that the lack of noise that always accompanied the ship was unusual. Looking down at the lower deck, she saw every crewmember watching the mermaids with a look of longing, not a one of them working.

Men…

"Bloody sea demons." Hook had a fierce look on his face.

Emma could faintly remember stories her mother had told her about mermaids; tales where they came to the aid of stranded sailors, mischievous yet helpful beings. She'd never depicted them as the devious creatures Hook was describing.

"Does their singing bother you?"

"Their siren song is like a drug to a man's thoughts. It pulls at his very being until he's not even aware of what he's doing. I've seen many a man succumb to a mermaid's cry; jump into the ocean only to be pulled to his death."

Hook dragged himself away from the railing with, what seemed like, some difficulty and returned to the helm. The ship had begun to drift dangerously close to the lagoon. He turned the wheel sharply, steering them away from the mermaids and their deadly song, and Emma could hear their plaintive cries at the sight of the men leaving. Hook's jaw was still clenched and she wondered if he'd ever been close to falling prey to the mermaids.

If he'd ever been one to jump.

Eighty-nine days

It was going to be an unbearably hot day, she just knew it. The near constant breeze on the water had stilled and there were no clouds in the sky to block the blazing sun. It was only a matter of time before things started to get miserable so when Hook mentioned them going to shore and resting in the shade, Emma jumped at the opportunity.

She relaxed in the shade of the Neverwood trees, dozing in and out of sleep for most of the morning, before deciding to go on a short walk down the beach. She passed a sleeping Hook and moved through the crewmembers that were scattered over the beach, lazing around, before finding a trail some ways down the beach and entering the woods.

The Neverwoods were different than the Tiki Forest – the forest was more like a jungle, while the Neverwoods were more like the traditional woodlands of the Enchanted Forest – although no less dangerous according to Hook. Emma liked the woods much better though; they were more open, making it easier to see farther than just a few feet into the woods. She was getting ready to turn back, figuring it was close to noon and time to eat, when she spotted a fruit tree just off the path.

She thought about what Hook had told her once before, about not straying from trails, but it was only a few feet away and she was terribly hungry and the fruit just looked so delicious and, really, what could go wrong? When the first couple steps off the path didn't result in her untimely demise, she decided to admonish Hook later for being such a baby. Feeling arrogant, Emma reached for the fruit, not noticing the trip wire and subsequent dart until it was too late.

When Emma awoke, she was laying on the ground staring up at a sky that no longer displayed a morning sun but a late afternoon sun. She was just beginning to try to piece together what had happened, when the sky was obscured by a circle of young boys that stood over her.

"Is she a bird?"

"She ain't a bird, Tootles. That was Wendy."

"But I thought you said Wendy wasn't a bird."

"She was at first and _then_ she turned into a mother."

What?

Emma tried to make sense of what she was hearing and seeing, although she quickly abandoned trying to figure out what the boys were talking about; she didn't even want to try to understand the relationship between birds and mothers. As for what she was seeing… since there were no other wild and deranged kids running around Neverland, the boys that stood above her must be Peter Pan and his Lost Boys.

She'd seen them on multiple occasions but only ever from the safety of the Jolly Roger and had yet to talk to one of them, which she'd figured wasn't a bad thing because they seemed like wild and ferocious little things.

"_What on earth?" She mumbled it to herself, more stunned than anything to see what looked like a group of young boys on the distant shore. They danced and hopped around, dangerously close to the cliff's edge, brandishing spears out towards the ship and yelling obscenities and threats._

"_The Lost Boys."_

_He said it as if it wasn't shocking in the least for there to be a dozen boys wandering around Neverland without any adult supervision, flaunting weapons and yelling curses._

"_Where'd they come from? How'd they get here?"_

"_There's one among them calls himself Peter Pan. Told me once that he came here so long ago that he doesn't even remember how; all he knows is Neverland." Both of them watched the boys prance around. "For some reason, the little brat can fly. You flew with the help of Tinkerbell's dust, but he's different. It's like the magic here is ingrained in him; he doesn't need pixie dust to fly, he just does it. "_

"_And the others?"_

"_He brought them all here from another realm; some place without magic. Anyway, he's in charge of the boys now, although his leadership abilities leave something to be desired." She didn't doubt that for a second as one boy pushed another, almost causing him to topple over the cliff. The sound of their laughter stretched across the water, as if the boy's near death was merely an exciting turn of events in some game._

Slowly she moved to sit up, all of the boys jumping back and forming a line except for one slightly taller, sandy-haired boy that stood in front of the others. There were seven total, not a one of them looking older than ten or eleven. They stared at her curiously as if she were the most exotic thing they'd seen in years, which, when she thought about it, was probably true.

"What's your name, pirate?" The slightly taller one in front asked the question and she assumed him to be Peter Pan.

"I'm not a pirate. And my name is Emma."

"That's a dumb name for a pirate." This time it was a small, dark-haired boy that spoke. She noticed that he was holding a hand-carved flute and wondered if he'd managed to make it himself.

"Well I guess it's a good thing I'm not a pirate."

When she'd first boarded the Jolly Roger, she'd had nothing more than the clothes on her back. Thankfully, Hook had a few items of women's clothing – she didn't really ask the particulars of how or why – in his cargo hold for her to wear. Seeing how he was a pirate, most of the clothes he'd had available for her to wear slightly resembled pirate-like attire, which was obviously not helping her case.

"Wait a minute – you're a girl!" Well spotted, kid. "There's no girls in Neverland, pirate."

"I'm _not_ a pirate."

"You're big so you must be." As if every adult was automatically a pirate. She once again had to stop and think that, to these boys, that was probably true – the only adults in Neverland were either Indians or pirates and she was evidently not an Indian.

"I promise you, I'm not a pirate."

"Well if you ain't a pirate, why were you with Captain Hook?" She didn't even have time to answer before he continued. "Oh, I know – if you're a girl, you must be his captive."

"We can't let her go back to Captain Hook, Pan." She briefly thought that, since they believed her to be a captive, the curly-haired boy's comment at least made partial sense. "We should steal her."

Nevermind.

Emma gritted her teeth in frustration. She was surrounded by irrational, thieving, sexist, ten year old boys.

"Good idea, Curly. I know - she'll be Mother!" Emma blinked and stared blankly at Pan as all of the other boys cheered. "Oh, the cleverness of me!" To her surprise, Peter began to hover a few inches off the ground, a wide grin on his face, fully pleased with himself, before floating in circles around her.

"Mother?" She probably sounded stupid but she was in such shock at the boys' absurd train of thought that it was hard to focus.

"You'll read us stories and cook us food and make us feel better when we're sick." Pan looked fully pleased with his idea. "You'll be Mother and I'll be Father." She doubted that his adolescent mind could fully comprehend what else being a mother and father entailed.

"Alright Lost Boys, if she's to be Mother, she needs to come with us. To the Wendy House!" The boys exploded into activity, two identical boys coming up to loop their arms through hers and pull her into the woods. She dug her heels in, trying to resist their tugging, but when more of the boys began to pull, she realized it was a lost cause.

It was embarrassing, really – being kidnapped by children.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, lads." Emma's head whipped around at the familiar voice. She hadn't even heard him approaching yet there he was, leaning casually against the tree fingering the hilt of the cutlass at his side.

"Hook!" One of the boys – she couldn't tell who – yelled it out and suddenly Peter was the only one left, the others having fled into the jungle. Emma was shocked at the turn of events. As she stared at the two remaining people, she came to three conclusions: (1) the Lost Boys were complete and utter cowards, (2) there was no great loyalty between them as they'd abandoned Peter to face Hook alone, and (3) Hook was highly amused by the whole kidnapping situation judging by the grin on his face.

"Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me?"

"This is our Mother, pirate – get your own!" To his credit, Peter at least looked brave as he jumped between the two adults and held out his small sword towards Hook. At the boy's words, Hook looked at her, seemingly on the verge of laughing at whatever mess she'd managed to get herself into, but she just shot him a glare that carried a very clear message – _don't ask_.

Attention back on her would-be captor, Hook took a few intimidating steps towards the boy. "I don't need a mother." When he was close enough, he reached out and flicked the end of Peter's blade. "You sure you want to do this, boy?"

"I'll fight you! I'm not scared!"

"I'm not here to fight. I just want the lass."

"She's not a lass, she's Mother." Peter probably didn't even know what a lass was.

"Well then your mother belongs to me."

Emma almost choked, which was quite an accomplishment considering there was nothing in her mouth. "I do _not_ belong to you." Hook shot her a look that visibly said she wasn't helping the situation.

"Tell him you don't want to be his captive anymore, Mother. Tell him you want to go with us." The boy turned to her with an almost pleading look in his eyes that made her stop. While there was no way she would go with him and the Lost Boys, she couldn't help but feel sad at knowing how badly they probably needed a parental figure.

Hook, however, must have been tired of the boy's antics. He moved forward suddenly, Pan flying up and out of the way, before catching her arm. "Let's go, _Mother_." He was still struggling to hold back a laugh as he put as much emphasis into her new title as possible. Hook pulled her close, leaning his head over to murmur in her ear as he led them out of the forest. "Next time, stick to the trails like I told you."

Emma didn't respond, just watched as Peter hovered in the treetops and called out to her before flying away. "Don't worry, Mother, we'll find you!"

She hoped to whatever being could hear her that he wouldn't.

They made it back to the Jolly Roger without any other mishaps, although Emma was tempted to physically maim Hook as he teased her about her newfound parental status. He wasn't angry in the least at her unexpected capture; rather, he seemed overtly amused at the whole situation. Back aboard the ship, Emma sat in the cabin while Hook navigated them away from the coast and into deeper waters. It wasn't until later that evening that she finally went to the helm to talk to him.

"Hook, why _aren't_ there any girls in Neverland?" It seemed such a silly idea, that only boys could stay here.

"I've no idea, love. Just how it goes, I guess." Emma sat with her back against the ship's railings, watching the men on the lower deck as they laughed and drank, generally enjoying life. Hook dropped down to sit beside her. "I did ask Pan once, though."

She looked at him then, a vision of the sandy-haired boy floating in circles around her coming to mind. "With all the nonsense he spouts, I'd be surprised if he could give you a logical answer."

"No, he's not exactly lucid." He chuckled. "It was something along the lines of lost boys being children who fall out of their beds when their mothers aren't looking."

"What the… that makes no sense whatsoever. And _still_ doesn't explain why there aren't any girls."

Hook smiled at her bewilderment. "Well, he said that girls are too clever to ever fall out of their beds and be lost in such a manner."

"Oh, of course. Because when you put it like that..." And they both shared a laugh. The sky stretched out over her in the fading light and Emma wondered if there was anything else in this realm except the island or if the sea just went on forever. Maybe if they sailed long enough, they'd come to Tortuga. Suddenly, Emma felt a pang of longing so sharp that she winced – she missed her friend.

"I wish Ruby could've come with us to Neverland. She'd have loved this."

"Ruby?"

Emma turned to Hook in surprise, ready to admonish him for forgetting her friend so quickly, but then she paused. She'd been about to say something… about a ruby? Why on earth would a ruby be her friend? That was ridiculous, something more likely to be said by the deranged Peter Pan. She was well past the age for make-believe friends, even if the gem would make a rather pretty one. But she was absolutely sure she'd been about to say something about a ruby…

"You're bloody brilliant, Swan." Hook moved quickly, leaning over her and pressing a quick kiss to her lips before jumping up to turn to his crew. Emma touched her lips absentmindedly as he spoke, stunned at the sudden kiss. "Listen up, lads. Get your rest because tomorrow we're going to look for treasure. I've got a mind to find some rubies."

He grinned at her over his shoulder and Emma couldn't help but smile back. They would search the island for rubies – what an excellent idea. If they found some, Hook might even let her fashion some sort of necklace with one. She was surprised, though; most of the time it was Hook that came up with their adventures, came up with plans of what they would do next. She couldn't help but feel pleased to have come up with such an exciting proposal.

But a frown passed over face when she realized she couldn't quite remember exactly _how_ she'd come up with it.

* * *

**Neverland is a tricky place. It messes with your head without you even realizing it.  
**

**I love how Peter Pan and the Lost Boys are all older in the OUAT episodes, but I really wanted to keep them young in this story. I always enjoyed the idea of crazy ten year olds that make no sense running around, perpetually stuck in that everything-is-a-game phase.**

**Thanks so much for reviewing!**


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**A Bedtime Story and A Drinking Game**

"_I have a fire in my fingers and I want to believe in this, in me, in you and the way your eyes burn when you look at me."_

* * *

"Have I ever told you the story of Neverland?"

Her father was seated on one side of her bed, ready to tell the bedtime story, while her mother sat on the other side, pulling the blankets up to Emma's chin. She had just turned five about a month ago – which was _so_ much better than four – and thought she was a big girl now, but she still liked it when her parents told her stories.

"No, what's Neverland?"

"It's a magical place; an island in the middle of a great sea that's filled with all sorts of things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, there are all sorts of animals – birds, monkeys, deer, bears, pigs, snakes. All the animals you could ever think of. There's even a story of a great bird that flies over the island called the Neverbird."

"And there are also mermaids." It was her mother that spoke now and Emma's eyes quickly shot to her. "Beautiful mermaids that play along the shores and help people that become lost at sea or fall in the water."

"Who would need their help?"

"The Indians that live in Neverland, of course. There's a whole tribe of them that have lived there since the beginning. They live in the Neverland Plains, a great grassland that stretches on for miles, where they ride horses and hunt. And sometimes they go to the sea and fish and swim and play with the mermaids."

A vision of riding her very own horse – obviously it would be a paint because they were very pretty with their splotched colors – across the grassland all by herself, chasing after some wild animal, hung in her mind. Her father had let her ride his stallion a few times before but only while he held the reigns and led the tall animal. After the first ride, Emma had been persistent – because she was _five_ and that was plenty old enough to do things on her own now – but her father had never relented.

"And do you know what the best part of Neverland is?"

Focus returned to the tale, Emma's eyes were wide with delight; this was the best bedtime story she'd heard in ages. "What?"

"You never have to grow old. Anyone that lives in Neverland will stay young forever."

Never have to grow up? To stay perpetually young and spend forever having fun, riding horses with the Indians and swimming with the mermaids. It all sounded so amazing, she could barely stand it.

"Oh, Dad, can we sail there? Please?" She'd been on one of the royal ships a couple times now, and it was always so much fun because she couldn't see the land at all when they went very far out and if she stood at the very front of the ship she could sometimes see dolphins swimming in the water ahead of them.

"I would take you in an instant if I could, but Neverland isn't a place you sail to." Her father leaned in conspiratorially. "The only way to get there is to fly."

"Fly?" She whispered the word, enthralled. Flying? How exciting!

"Yes, dear, you fly up in the sky, high as you can, and follow the second star to the right straight on 'til morning."

* * *

One hundred twelve days

Stars.

If Emma had to pick one thing that she loved most about being in Neverland, it would be the stars.

The deck was cold against her back as she laid at the bow of the Jolly Roger, legs dangling over the side of the ship, gazing up at them. Despite being a world away from the place where she first learned their names, she was still able to pick out the familiar constellations. If she blocked out the sea and the ship and the strange island, she could almost pretend she wasn't in another realm.

Almost being the key word, though, since the stars were all shifted around in the sky.

Apparently, after travelling to the second star to the right and all that, one got a completely different perspective on the sky. Orion, which should be more or less directly above her, was scooted far to the left and down a ways. Still in the sky, just not in the right spot.

But wasn't that the right spot? It must be… after all, it had been there every night for the past four months; Emma had seen it almost nightly with her own eyes. How could something that's obviously there not be in the right spot? It wouldn't _be_ there if it wasn't the right spot.

But didn't it used to be somewhere else…?

Emma blinked hard. Neverland played cruel tricks with a person's mind; Hook had told her that. At the time, she wasn't able to comprehend exactly how stealthy it was, never having been exposed to it. The key to Neverland's magic wasn't necessarily in making a person forget; Emma could recall certain memories just fine. It was when she tried to focus on particular aspects that everything got fuzzy.

She could remember running away as a child, but not where she'd run to. She could remember having a gorgeous friend with a feisty attitude, but not her name or how they'd met. She could remember working in a bar, but not what it looked like or what it was called. She could remember getting stabbed at some point, but not why.

It was as if actively delving into certain thoughts, anything that could be even remotely traced to wanting to return home, made them fade. It was disconcerting. To think of something and then it just be gone. Tinkerbell told her once that if she stayed here long enough, she would eventually forget everything; there was no real rhyme or reason to which memories were forgotten first, although the pixie had mentioned that the happier ones tended to be the first to go.

The stars twinkled. Emma always thought they shone brighter here than wherever she had been before this.

Or had she been in Neverland forever?

"You know, I never thought I'd find someone that enjoyed the stars as much as me until I met you." Emma tilted her head back, finding Hook a few feet behind her leaning against a stack of crates. He wasn't looking at her, though; his gaze was focused on the sky just as hers had been.

"I didn't take you for a star-gazer, Hook."

"I'm a pirate, love. It comes with the package." She knew that; had spent more time than she cared to admit watching and admiring him as he navigated the ship based on the stars alone. When he finally looked at her, she couldn't hold his gaze for long and turned back to her previous position. "So what compels you to watch the skies every night?"

"I like the stars." The feeling of grass beneath her hands and being nestled against a warm body and of arms wrapped around her in an embrace floated through her head, but she didn't know what they meant. "I think they remind me of someone."

"And let me guess – you can't remember who." She frowned slightly as the conversation returned to the train of thought she'd had before his arrival and heard him walk towards her, boots loud against the wooden deck.

"I can remember things, but when I try to think about the things I'm remembering, I forget." It sounded confusing but she knew he'd understand.

"And that, my dear…" Hook moved to lay beside her. "… is Neverland's curse."

"And yet you came back. I mean, you've spent time here before; doesn't it bother you to always have trouble remembering?" Now that she understood the magic a little better, she couldn't fathom why he would voluntarily come here knowing what this realm did.

He nodded slightly. "Sometimes I wish I could remember." Then a strange look passed over his face and his voice dropped. "But sometimes it's nice to forget."

Emma was looking at him, staring at his profile, trying to memorize him in this moment. So much of their time together was spent on adventures through Neverland, times filled with fun and teasing. She rarely got to see Hook serious like this; the only other time being that day on the cliffs after a lesson.

Wait…

"I remember you."

He turned to her then with a deep look on his face that she much preferred to the melancholy one from before. Nothing about him had faded, not a single moment of their time together, although she didn't quite understand how or why. Every memory that came to mind was still perfectly clear.

"I remember meeting you and you saving my life. All of our talks. The lessons. Your stupid innuendos. I remember choosing to go to you when I was stabbed."

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. That profound look was still on his face as he stared at her, and she was almost mesmerized by how brilliant his eyes were in that moment. They seemed to change based on any given situation and were now a brighter, icy-blue. Everything felt so concentrated, and Emma couldn't take it.

"Don't get a big head or anything."

And the moment was broken. Picking up on her cues, Hook relaxed, his face easing into a slight smirk, and Emma was glad to be back on familiar ground again.

"They'll fade, same as everything else, in time. Although, if I didn't know better, I'd say you harbored some sort of affection for me."

She snorted a laugh. "Well I guess it's a good thing you know better. I'd hate for you to go around thinking something that wasn't true."

"I've obviously made an impression on you, love. Of all the things in the world for you to still remember, you remember me."

The accustomed repartee put her at ease in a way few other things could. Over their time together, she'd come to realize that Hook used his innuendos and teasing comments in more than one way. Obviously, he used them to flatter women – she knew he meant every word he said and would most likely make good on his suggestions if she ever decided to take him up on an offer – but they were also used as a buffer in conversations; a natural way to ease tension or redirect the discussion from a potentially unwanted topic.

"I wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe Neverland's curse is really that it only allows you to remember the things that annoy you the most." It was a pretty slick retort, if she did say so herself, and she met his smirk with one of her own.

"Admit it – you've got a soft spot for me."

At that, she gave him a dubious look even though she knew he could read through her snubs far too easily; he'd always been able to call her bluff. He cut off any reply she might have had, though, when he leaned over and kissed her.

He'd kissed her occasionally since their first one in his cabin – it seemed like a lifetime ago – before setting sail for Neverland, although he never pushed her any farther than that. Some were chaste and gentlemanly, some were demanding and wild. Some were so innocent they would startle her, some were so passionate they would leave her winded.

This one was soft and slow.

His mouth was moving gently against hers and his fingertips were softly tracing the outside of her ear and his chest was almost touching hers and they were practically out in the open for everyone to see…

And she found she didn't care.

One hundred fifty days

To be honest, the sea serpent had come out of nowhere. The Jolly Roger had been anchored off the shore near Crocodile Creek – because Hook just _had_ to kill a crocodile – when the creature attacked. The suctioned tentacles that crept over the sides of the ship had immediately brought to mind frightening stories she'd heard about the kraken. Thankfully, this monster was nowhere near the gigantic proportion of the beast from the tales, but it still did a number on the ship.

In the end, they managed to drive the serpent away, but not without sustaining a few casualties. Several men sported cuts and scrapes and one had been dragged overboard to his death. Emma and Hook had fared fairly well, at least until Emma had fallen overboard.

She'd been fighting with a particularly nasty tentacle, choosing to climb some of the rigging to gain an elevated advantage, and was just starting to gain the upper hand when the creature slammed into the ship, the sudden movement causing her to lose her grip and fall into the water. From what the men told her, Hook had jumped to her rescue, pulling her to safety just as the rest of the crew finally drove the serpent away.

While Emma emerged relatively unscathed, Hook suffered a nasty cut from his momentary lapse in attention at her fall and what seemed like the beginnings of a cold from the freezing water he'd jumped into. She felt awful, really, since both of his conditions were technically her fault. That's why she was currently forcing him to rest in his cabin while she tended to his injury.

"I rather enjoy you taking care of me, love. You truly are a woman of many talents. And look, this one can even be related to a bedroom."

Let it be known that being sick and injured did nothing to dampen Hook's personality.

"You're hopeless." She pressed the damp cloth to his forehead, cleaning away the dried blood to better inspect the cut; that's when she noticed the fever. "And you're hot…"

"Well it's about time – I thought you'd never notice."

Emma gave him a severe look. Her body already felt sore from the fighting and climbing and swimming; how he had the ability to flirt right now was beyond her. "You have a fever, a high one. You need to stay here and rest until it passes."

His playfulness melted away. "No, no, no. I'm not staying in bed like an invalid." He tried to sit up but she simply pushed him back down, the ease of it being a testament to how bad he must really feel.

"You're in no condition to be out on deck. The more you rest, the quicker you'll get better. I'll let the crew know and we'll drop anchor somewhere until you're better. They're more than capable of repairing the ship." She reached for the bowl of soup the cook had whipped up for her. "Now eat this." With a stubborn glare, he grabbed the bowl and began to eat, while she returned her focus to the cut.

"You're a tough lass. You'd make one hell of a pirate."

She didn't know what to say so she remained silent, pressing a piece of gauze to his wound and beginning to wrap it. His slight wince didn't escape her notice.

"Does it hurt very much?"

"It's _throbbing_." And it sounded dirty because it was Hook who said it.

She rolled her eyes with a soft laugh; he had this unfailing ability to make anything sound perverted. "Yeah, you're going to be fine. Finish that soup and I'll come check on you later." She turned to him before she closed the door, giving him a warning look. "And don't even think about getting up or leaving this cabin."

"I love it when you order me around, Swan."

"Ugh, shut up."

One hundred ninety-eight days

"I think you're right, Cap'n. Women just can't hold their liquor."

Emma sat with her back against the mast, doing her best to ignore Hook and his crew's taunts and gritting her teeth; if she were a dog, her fur would be bristling at this point.

It was one of those days where it was minutes away from snowing and as the day turned to night, the crew had decided that a drinking game would be the best way to warm everyone up. It hadn't taken much to convince Hook to play but then they all ganged up on her.

"Come on, Swan – prove us wrong."

"Show us how a real woman drinks."

"Unless you think you can't handle it, love."

The last comment came from Hook, playing at her stubbornness and pride. With a frustrated growl, Emma stood up, throwing the blanket she'd been covered with to the deck, and stomped over to the circle of men before flopping down to join them. She tried her best to hide the smile she felt as the men cheered at her presence.

It turned out to be a relatively easy game, something involving coins behind bounced into mugs, and Emma was surprised to find she did fairly well. The crew teamed up with her to focus all their efforts on getting their captain wasted – which by the end of the game was a complete success and quite hilarious as she'd never seen Hook that drunk – and they spent the rest of the evening casually drinking, eating, and laughing so much that her cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

It was late when Hook moved from the small group he was in to sit by her. He sat close, his shoulder lightly bumping against hers. He wasn't as drunk as he'd been earlier, having had some time to sober up, but she knew he was still intoxicated. He handled it well, though; much better than she was. She'd had to slow down, taking sips instead of gulps, a couple hours back, but the alcohol was still affecting her. He talked with the men she'd been sitting with for a while before he turned to speak only to her.

"It's getting late. One more drink before we call it a night? I think I have something in my cabin."

It _was_ late. Her eyes felt heavy with drowsiness; or maybe that was from the alcohol. She couldn't really tell. His comment sounded something like a bad pickup line – how convenient that the alcohol was in a secluded cabin away from everyone else – but she knew he hadn't meant it that way and wondered if it was a bad thing that she could now tell the difference between when he was insinuating something and being genuine.

"Ok."

He stared at her in surprise. "You gave into that far quicker than I expected, love."

"Only because I'm cold and it's bound to be warmer in your cabin than out here." Which was partially true.

"And if it's not, we can find some kind of activity to warm it up."

She couldn't help but smile at the typical response as they both stood up and made their way to his quarters. "I should've seen that one coming."

"If you didn't, you've learned absolutely nothing about me in the almost three years we've known each other."

"Oh, it didn't take me long to figure you out, Hook." He opened the door to his cabin for her and she tried to ignore the feeling of his hand against the small of her back as she passed him. "You're just one big, walking innuendo."

He managed to look at her, feigning affront, before pulling out two bottles from a desk drawer and waving them in her direction. "Whiskey or rum?"

"Rum." Whiskey had always done atrocious things to her decision-making abilities and that was the last thing she needed to happen around Hook, especially when alcohol in general seemed to heighten her every sense.

He dropped the whiskey bottle back in the drawer with a genuine smile. "That's my girl." Handing her the mug, he returned to sit in the chair at his desk rather than beside her on the couch as she'd expected. He leaned back, balancing the chair on two legs, with one foot propped against the leg of the desk and she couldn't help but think he looked unbearably attractive.

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. "Can I ask you a question, love?" Automatically bracing herself for whatever he had in mind, she nodded. "Do you ever miss it? Being a barmaid, I mean."

She hadn't known what question to expect from him but that certainly wasn't it. It took her a moment to recall the years spent in the bar, had to pull them out of Neverland's grasp, but then the memories were clear. "You mean do I miss men harassing me and touching me and trying to get me to go home with them?" She paused. "Sometimes."

"That's a scandalous admission, Miss Swan. One might be inclined to think that you were somewhat less than virtuous." She smiled and cocked an eyebrow at his snooty tone. "And did you ever go home with any of those men?"

"I was a barmaid, Hook, not a saint. That would be like me asking if you'd ever taken a woman from a tavern to bed."

He returned her smile and took a drink. "Fair enough."

They settled into silence and a couple thoughts popped into her head. They weren't saying anything and were already into a semi-personal conversation so Emma took a few drinks of rum knowing she'd need some more liquid courage to ask what was really on her mind.

"Can I ask _you_ something?"

"Ask away, milady." Hook's tone was flippant but they both knew that her question would be anything but.

"What revenge do you seek? I heard it mentioned during my time with the pixies."

He'd gone very still, eyes falling to the tattoo on his forearm. So this revenge had to do with Milah… he'd said she'd died but Emma now had a feeling that wasn't the whole truth. When he spoke, his voice was low and solemn.

"I met Milah in a tavern in the Enchanted Forest a long time ago. She was deeply unhappy, married to a coward, and came to me before I left town to beg me to take her away. Her husband wasn't even willing to fight for her." Emma knew next to nothing about this woman but felt a deep understanding at her desire to escape. "I have no use for cowards."

His voice had turned darker, angrier, at his last few words and she wondered if that statement was the crux of Captain Hook.

"So I took her with me. I liked her well enough at first, but over time I grew to love her. She was different. Not your typical, demure maiden; no, she was wild and free… full of life. She'd been dying in that town, everything about it stifled her, but out there on the sea… that was where she belonged."

He grew quiet, eyes dark, and he took a long drink of rum. "What happened to her?"

"He killed her." His eyes shot to hers. "He _murdered_ her."

"Who?" The question was barely audible.

"Turns out, while we were sailing the seas, her husband had become the Dark One. We met by chance one day, several years after Milah had come with me, and when he found out that she had willingly left him instead of been forced as he'd believed, he was furious. So he tied me to the mast, pulled out her heart, and crushed it right in front of me."

Emma's chest was tight. She couldn't breathe.

"I had to stand there and watch her die."

"So your revenge… you wanted to find a way to kill the Dark One?" Emma had heard stories of the Dark One – Rumplestiltskin, they called him. He'd been exiled, sent to a far off corner of the land when her parents had defeated the Evil Queen.

"Aye. But he's damn near immortal and I'm just a man. That's when I came to Neverland for the second time." She recalled him mentioning that he'd been to this realm twice. "I came to the only place where I had all the time in the world to plan my revenge."

"And how long did you stay in Neverland?"

"Somewhere close to three hundred years."

Three hundred years. Three _hundred_ years. Now it made sense why he was so damned good at everything – he'd had multiple centuries to practice. Which really wasn't fair at all but that was beside the point because _three hundred years_.

"I was here for so long with nothing to do but think about how angry I was, how much I wanted to kill Rumplestiltskin. My need for revenge very nearly consumed me."

"_And anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark… I wouldn't have you see me dark like that, Emma."_

Those words made more sense to her now.

"Eventually, I heard of a dagger; it's the only thing that can kill the imp so I returned to the Enchanted Forest to find it."

"Did you?" But she felt she already knew the answer.

"No."

And that's where it ended. His deepest secret. The thing that had always gone unmentioned in their past moments of sharing. He'd fallen in love, watched her die, and then spent an eternity searching for a way to avenge her death only to still come up short. It was tragic.

She stood up and walked towards Hook; he was still leaning back in the chair and his eyes followed her movement. She stopped in front of him, leaning against the edge of the desk near his foot with his other leg only a couple feet in front of her own, and stared down at him for a moment.

"You know of King Charming and Queen Snow?" The words were out before her brain had time to process the decision of whether or not to say it. There was no going back now. She fiddled with the still half-full mug in her hands and stared over his head into the cabin, too afraid to meet his eyes, but could see him nod in her peripheral vision. "I'm their daughter."

She glanced at him hesitantly and saw him staring at her with a blank look that might have been the least amount of expression she'd ever seen on his face.

"Love, the princess has been missing for years. She disappeared when she was…"

"Twelve." Emma cut in. "But she didn't disappear so much as run away." At the shadow that moved across his face, she knew he remembered their conversation on the cliffs.

"You're…" His brow was furrowed and he seemed to have trouble processing the information. "So you're saying that _you're_ the long lost princess?"

"Guilty."

"If you really are the princess, why would you run away? Life as a royal shouldn't leave you wanting for much."

"Actually, it left me wanting for a great deal. Money, fancy clothes, jewelry, parties… they were all trivial and completely pointless things that I didn't want. Being able to wear trousers and hunting shirts, learning how to use a bow and protect myself, knowing how to survive outside of the palace walls – those are practical things that actually come in handy. What use are dresses and trinkets?"

"Well, they can be quite valuable to a pirate. I've brought in some good money from stolen valuables." Emma gave him a hard look and he quickly added to his statement. "But that's different."

"What I wanted was a chance to live. I wasn't allowed to do anything; I couldn't even do something as simple as walk around town without someone hovering over me. They controlled every aspect of my life." As she spoke, Emma could see Hook's countenance change as he began to take her words as truth. "I told you before how they had everything planned out for me. I was only twelve – _twelve_ – but I was already betrothed, promised to some prince to be married on my eighteenth birthday. My parents were the bloody definition of true love yet they were forcing me into an arranged marriage."

"And so you decided to run away."

"My mother told me about my betrothal on my birthday. I can still remember how betrayed I felt…" The unexpected slap and the way her cheek lightly stung afterwards. "It was the last straw. So I left. Packed my bags, bought my way onto a trading ship, and set sail for someplace far outside the reach of my parents. Some place where no one would recognize me."

"A princess – one that had everything a person could ever ask for at her disposal – abandons her birthright and runs away, settling in Tortuga to work as a barmaid."

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

"You could've stayed; tried to convince them to reconsider."

"If you had the chance to change your fate, would you?" And he didn't even have to answer because she already knew the circumstances surrounding his young life. Hook had told her how his father had abandoned him, how the people that had taken him tried to train him for a life as a blacksmith but he didn't want it, deciding to leave for a life on the seas instead.

They were so very much alike.

The chair legs hit the floor and he set his tankard on the floor before standing up. There wasn't very much room between them to start with, but Emma pushed away from the desk at his movement, coming closer to him. They'd both had an unwanted life ahead of them, had chosen to take control of their future, and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same connection with her as she did with him.

He was gazing at her and his eyes were dark; she recognized that hungering look. Breaking eye contact, she looked down between them at the mug still gripped in her hands only to find them shaking. The air felt like heavy, the sexual tension suddenly so thick it was almost tangible, the energy of it crackling like electricity.

She raised the mug to her mouth, downing the liberal amount of rum that remained. While she had been tipsy before, still feeling some of the aftereffects of the drinking game, now the rum raced through her body, quickly pushing her far past mild inebriation. Her mind felt fuzzy, vision slightly blurry, and body impossibly languorous but Hook was looking at her intensely and she couldn't think of anything except that she wanted him.

So with a confidence borne only through her drunken state, she grabbed for Hook, gripping the lapels of his jacket, and crashed her lips to his.

It was the first time she'd ever made the move to kiss him and he paused – she'd like to think in shock or surprise – for a moment before responding, wrapping his left arm around her back while his right hand cupped her head. She felt like she was burning. Every time he'd ever touched her she'd experienced heat, and now she could feel the fire that followed in the wake of his hand as it moved down her side to settle at her waist.

They kissed roughly, her back arching as he leaned into her. In response, she pushed against his lips, fighting him for dominance, and a noise rumbled through his chest at the challenge. He began to walk her backwards until she felt the desk press against her backside. The hand that had been at her waist strayed lower now, moving down and around to the back of her thigh, and she felt the pressure as he pulled on her leg. She knew what he wanted and ended the kiss long enough to scoot up onto his desk.

Following her, he stepped into the space she'd vacated, standing between her legs now, and pressed his hips to hers in the way she desperately craved. "Gods, Emma." His voice was tight, like it would snap under the pressure they were creating. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

If it was anything like what he did to her, she understood and had felt the same for far too long. Their many layers of clothing did nothing to stop the searing heat she felt. He was grinding against her and it was _wonderful_ because she positively ached for him and couldn't seem to touch him enough.

Some distant part of her mind snidely mentioned she should have done this a long time ago and Emma was so far gone that she was inclined to agree. "I want you. Now." It was a plea – she needed him so bad – and he all but growled at her words.

She pushed at his clothing, shoving the leather jacket to the floor before reaching for the clasps of his vest, undoing the fastenings urgently while his hand worked at the laces of her bodice. He smelled like a tantalizing mixture of rum and leather and sex and her mind felt like it was literally drowning in a haze of drunken lust.

"You're drunk."

And she was; swimming in a sea of inebriation. She'd spent so long trying to convince herself that this was wrong, that they were wrong, that now she wanted nothing more than to give in to the absolute sensation of right. When sober, her mind constantly worked against her, but drunk… being able to place blame on the rum would make it so much easier to rationalize sleeping with him.

The clasps came free and he shrugged out of the vest just as she pulled the shirt over his head. It was unfair, really, how attractive Hook was. Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of lean muscle that came from years of hard work, the scars that were scattered across his skin, and the hair that tapered into a dark line and descended past the waistband of his pants.

"Who cares?"

It was cold in the cabin – although she couldn't really tell how cold with the fire rushing through her – and their shallow pants created puffs of smoke in the chilly air. He'd given up on her top for the moment, content to grind his hips against hers, as she leaned forward to press her lips to the hollow of his throat before trailing a line of kisses down his chest, nipping at him and causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

As her hands drifted to the front of his pants, she felt his whole body jerk before his hand and hook settled on her shoulders and he pulled away. Her fingers dangled in the now empty air between them, mind still reeling from the combination of the alcohol and desire, but she tried to focus as he held her at arm's length.

"What's wrong?"

He was breathing heavily and seemed to struggle with the words. "I'm absolutely sure I've never said this in my life, but I think we need to stop." He gave her a grim smile that told her exactly how hard it was for him to say that.

She felt a slight stab of rejection and it caused her words to come out sounding bitter. "You don't want this?"

He gave a pained laugh. "On the contrary, love, I want this very badly." His eyes wandered over her face. "I want you more than I've wanted anything in longer than I can remember. But I'm a gentleman. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a drunken lady."

"For some reason, I find it very hard to believe you've never had drunk sex before." Of all times for him to be chivalrous, he had to choose now when she wanted nothing more than to sleep with him?

"While that is true, I don't want that with you." He released his grip on her shoulders and ran his hand through her hair. "When you decide to stop resisting me, resisting us, I want it to be a sober and willing decision. I want you to remember choosing me, I want you to remember wanting me to take you, and I want you to remember every detail of it the next morning."

Slightly angry, exhausted, and sexually frustrated beyond belief, Emma glowered at him. She was flat out drunk, could tell it by the way everything moved entirely too slow when she turned her head and how the room seemed to subtly shift around her, but that didn't change the fact that she wanted him.

"I think it's time to go to bed." He came forward, picking her up off the desk as if she weighed nothing and carrying her to the couch. In one last effort, she wrapped her legs around his waist, wound her arms around his neck, and sought his lips, but he set her down before she could reach them.

"You're a constant test of my self-control, woman."

"I don't want self-control right now." She was still attempting to chip away at his resolve even as she settled into the couch.

He chuckled and pulled the blanket over her. "Of that I am obviously, and right now somewhat painfully, aware."

Everything was catching up to Emma now, the ceiling spinning dizzily over her head, and her eyes felt so very heavy. Like whiskey, copious amounts of rum also appeared to do atrocious things to her decision-making abilities. "I'm not going to remember this in the morning, am I?" Her question was soft.

"Most likely not, love." Hook was brushing her hair away from her face soothingly. "And even if you do, I'm sure you'll deny it and go right back to resisting me."

"Mmm… only because you scare me."

He seemed confused by her confession. "And when have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?"

Her speech was starting to slur and his gentle caress was putting her to sleep. "Not scared _of_ you; scared of myself _with_ you. I'm scared to let go."

Hook said something then, but she couldn't make out the words as sleep claimed her.

One hundred ninety-nine days

The next morning, Emma awoke with a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and a full memory of what had happened the night before; the only missing piece being his last words as she'd fallen asleep. The other details burned in her mind clear as day, everything from their personal conversation to each searing kiss and touch.

However, true to Hook's word, she played dumb, pretending to remember their entire discussion but nothing past the point of her downing the last of her rum right before they kissed. Omitting the second half of the night just felt safer.

She was unsure whether he believed her when she'd told him how little she remembered.

She had a feeling he didn't.

* * *

**FYI (because I'm anticipating questions about it) – Tinkerbell said that, if they stayed in Neverland long enough, they would eventually forget everything. So even though Hook and Emma remember their secrets right now, that won't be the case forever.**

**And regarding a review from Cherry2 – I'd like to think that Emma will meet up with her parents again. I wouldn't want all that hurt between them to go on forever so an eventual reunion to smooth over the past seems possible.**

**As a side note, I'm running my first half marathon tomorrow morning – wish me luck :)**

**I appreciate each and every one of your reviews so much! Much love and thanks to you all!**


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